Awakening
by BiJane
Summary: Contains endgame spoilers and Fanille.  In the distant future, Fang and Vanille are extracted from crystal, and given a new chance to live their lives. But is all as safe as it seems?
1. Awakening

**Another random idea I had. Updates could be sporadic, I'm writing something else entirely too, but I'm hoping to start writing this as a break.  
Awakening. Well, first a word about what it contains. This bit is just the slightly drawn out introduction, the main body of the story contains some Fanille-as a side note, my first time writing yuri (is that the right word?) but then again, that's not too different from general romances (until you get into lemons, but I'm not going that far)-anyway, that's a bit of a dilemma, as I love Hope and Vanille, but anyway, I'm nattering on.  
Without further ado, I present to you- hee that rhymed...  
Okay, I'll try that introduction again.  
Let me present: 'Awakening'**

"Supports in place."

"Roger, I can see you."

"Focus on the task at hand please."

"Roger. Lifting up extraction model D-X2."

"You don't need to tell me, I'm on it."

"Focus on the task at hand please."

"Touché," there was a tiny chuckle through the microphone

"See them yet?"

"Almost."

"How can you tell you're almost there if you can't see them?"

"I'm over halfway up the thing."

"Fair enough."

"Got them!"

"Roger," a buzzing noise rippled through the speakers.

"Activating extraction procedure A1."

"Can you really believe we're about to do this?"

"Sure."

"Whew, you're better than me then. They're heroes."

"Do you mind? Trying to concentrate here."

"Fine. You nearly there?"

"Shut it."

"Oh, very nice. It's just, you think of them like a myth, you never expect to actually meet them."

"Do you mind?"

"Oops, sorry."

There was a moment's silence.

From a distance, the whole elaborate set up could be seen. Huge browning metal scaffold, constructed over decades if not centuries, in a rigid structure, all based around a central design of crystal. Littered on the ground around it were buildings made of metal, some lightning up at seemingly random times, a signal to those at a great distance. Several of the buildings were within the metal scaffold, and it was in one of those perches, each with huge walls made of glass, like a window, one of the speakers rested, sitting, idly talking into a microphone as she sat back, legs crossed, watching the central crystal pillar.

A lift had been constructed, running from the very top of the scaffold, incredibly high, all the way to the ground. Three quarters or so up this line was a complex metal cage, a circle, a ring around the pillar. Within here sat the second speaker, smiling in excitement, in the knowledge of what she was about to accomplish. Concentrating, she manoeuvred a series of blocky metal chunks around, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of her face as she slowly moved levers.

"You done?" the woman's voice from the scaffold crackled through the speaker

"Sheesh, you mind? This isn't easy."

A second of silence.

"In position." the woman with the levers spoke quietly.

"Yes! You can do it Sheri!"

"I would be able to if I could concentrate." Sheri murmured, keeping still, waiting for the other woman to be quiet.

"Got it, just remember, this is the product of centuries research and construction, and the slightest slip could ruin it forever. No pressure."

"Yeah thanks." Sheri rolled her eyes, before slowly dragging sliders up and down the panel.

There had been countless simulations over the last few years. She'd been chosen out of a pool of a few million, a pool she'd entered when 18, and had only concluded when she was in her twenties. By now, after all the training and preparation she was middle-aged. And yet, even all the simulations couldn't quite prepare her for the thrill, the tension of actually doing it.

No one wanted to get this wrong.

A horrid groaning, creaking started up as the chunks of metal grinded into the crystal. Sheri looked up, the window in her elevated room showing the crystal pillar and its contents. A metal ring around the pillar was steadily contracting, moving at the right speed to replace this segment of crystal.

But, naturally, that wasn't her only aim.

Sheri winced upon the continuation of the screeching of metal on crystal. That was another thing the simulation hadn't prepared her for. The bordering-on-painful drone. Still, failure wasn't an option. Trying to stop her hands shaking, she tightened the metal ring, squeezing three of four sides inwards, inch by agonizing inch.

Three possible outcomes: either she'd succeed, or she'd kill the two idols of the whole of Gran Pulse, or she might accidentally end up killing the whole world. Definitely no pressure.

Most of the crystal had been displaced after the next half hour: a huge block had been painstakingly removed, pressed into a storage bay below where Sheri stood. A quarter of the needed chunk had been pressed into the chamber, while the place it used to stand was gradually being replaced by metal, tiny crystal chips falling the giant distance to the ground.

"So close," Sheri murmured, hoarse.

In the hours that followed, the metal squeezed further, pressing what, in the end, was the core of the crystal pillar, and the wedge section that went between that centre and the edge. But Sheri didn't rest, not even when the needed bit was safely in the hold below. Carefully, with a slow urgency, she finished tightening the central knot of metal, not resting until the whole section of the pillar was replaced by metal.

There was a soft _click _as the movement of the ring completed, the segments locking into place in the centre.

Sheri let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding, falling back on her chair, fingers aching from the last few hours of work.

"My God," she murmured, voice hoarse into her microphone, "My God, we've done it Roxy, we've got them. We've bloody got them."

"Seriously?" Roxy's voice carried back after a second or so from within the scaffold.

"Seriously." Sheri repeated, breaking out into an insistent giggle of relief. "Send a memo to Captain Freya, she's gonna want to be here when we finish."

"You've got it, Roxy out."

Sheri laughed, excited, overjoyed, basking in the feeling of knowing what was held in the room beneath her. A block of solid crystal, containing something immeasurably precious.

Smiling, she clicked a button, illuminating a screen with the lower chamber, eyes meeting the contents of the crystal as she prepared herself for the long descent towards the ground.

Ten minutes later, she opened her eyes, waking up to a thud. Hastily, she sat up straight, turning off the screen and turning just in time to see the doors open.

"Sheri?" a tall woman stepped, confident, through the door. She was dressed in grey, with a hood covering most of her head except for a severe, yet kindly, face.

"Captain Freya!" Sheri sat up straighter.

"No need for the formalities," Freya smiled, "When word of this gets out, you'll be _my _boss. Please, release the lower chamber to the waiting trucks."

"Yes m-"

"No formalities, remember?" Freya's eyes twinkled

"Yes Freya," Sheri nodded, the word feeling strange spoken alone. She turned, pulling a lever down and letting the priceless crystal be lowered onto a waiting transport.

After three more hours, the crystal had been moved to a scientific facility and placed in a sealed room, with only one airlock-style door in and out. A five centimetre thick sheet of one-way glass formed one of the walls, and from behind that wall Freya, Roxy and Sheri stood, with a eight or so others, all but one non-descript members of the public who'd spent a small fortune to get in.

"Eight point three billion gil went into this operation," Freya turned to face her audience, the few in the room, and the cameras facing her and the room behind her through the glass. "One hundred and seventy six years in construction, a further twenty eight planning, not counting the two hundred and ninety five years before that when this was just a dream," Freya smiled.

"But no longer is it a dream," she spoke after a few second's pause, "With the cutting-edge technology of a lost age, augmented with designs from today's foremost scientists we have completed the task our ancestors began, oh so long ago. With our study of the fal'Cie, a study spanning three years in itself, this last step is possible," Freya extended a hand, inviting the eight member of the audience, the one who was not part of the paying public, up to the desk next to her. The desk was fitted plainly, pale brown wood with one sleek, silver, cylindrical lever set in the centre, composing around half the surface of the pedestal.

"For four hundred and ninety nine years, this has been a dream of our people, ever since we descended from Cocoon. Now it is made reality. I would like to invite my colleague, Dr Babil." she spoke the name as if she couldn't believe it was really his name. "To perform the final part."

"Thank you _Freya._" Dr Babil put an emphasis on the last word as he looked up at the still hooded lady.

He was quite short, slightly shorter than Freya, and had unruly silvery hair. It looked as if he'd tried to flatten it, but it hadn't worked very well at all.

With a winning smile back at the cameras, Babil lifted one hand and slowly, majestically, pulled the lever back.

On the other side of the glass, a specifically engineered, complicated gas flooded the room. As it ran through, it touched the crystal, and each area the gas touched it, the crystal seemed to melt away, becoming nothing but air.

The gas slowly cleared and, in the room, two silhouettes could be seen.

For the first time in almost five centuries, Fang and Vanille started to breathe.


	2. Introduction

**Here's the next part! Update was quicker this time just because I wanted to introduce one of the storylines. **

Fang fell to her knees, inhaling deeply. It was always disconcerting, coming out of crystal stasis.

"Hey Vanille," she grinned weakly, "We're back."

Vanille mumbled something unintelligible, rolling limply along the floor.

"Still tired huh?" Fang smiled, amused. She hadn't decided to look around yet; to her, it was more important to make sure the redhead was ok.

"Just five more minutes," Vanille groaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Afraid not Vanille."

"Fang?" Vanille opened her eyes, looking into the smiling, protective other Gran Pulsian's face. Still slightly woozy from the nap, the redhead lifted her head a little way, capturing Fang's lips for a brief second.

"Am I still dreaming?" the redhead gave a small smile.

"I hope not," Fang chuckled back, moving closer to Vanille.

"Could you two keep it under wraps?" a voice echoed around the room, "We've got kids watching"

Rolling her eyes, Fang sat up, looking around. The room looked pale, sterile, with walls perfectly smooth, except for curved grilles over the domed ceiling. There was what looked like a mirror over one wall, and on the other there was a thick glass door, one with a small corridor before another door behind it. It was locked.

"Any words for our viewers?" a new voice spoke.

"Viewers?" Vanille mumbled, sitting up, "What's going on?" she asked as she rubbed her eyes.

"Good point," the microphone gave a squeak before a quick silence.

The duo in the room looked around, staying close to each other, sitting in the centre of the new room. Their attention was caught by movement behind the pair of glass doors. A man, eighteen or so, with very dark skin, walked through the first door, got hit by a puff of air, and walked through the next door into the room.

"Hello," the man knelt down, a twinkle of what could be called nostalgia in his eyes, "My name is…Katz," he smiled, looking from Vanille, to Fang, and back again. "I don't know if I can say much to make this easier. You're idols to the whole of Pulse, or should that be Gran Pulse? We took you out of the crystal and brought you back, the whole world's watching you now, they want to hear something."

"Hear what, and what's with the room?" Fang demanded

"The room is for your safety, the air's vaccinating you against any new diseases that have spread since you were last here." Katz grinned, "And I don't think many people care what you say, as long as you say it. Try to make it good though, it's what people will identify you with for the next who-knows-how-long," the man grinned again at both of them, a lot happier than he'd admit, before stepping back to the wall, leaving the two in the room.

"You want to go first?" Vanille shrugged, looking across to Fang

"And say what?"

"I don't know," the redhead sighed, "I was hoping you'd give me an idea."

It was silent, save for their weary breathing, for a few more seconds.

"Hey Fang," Vanille sniggered, "Isn't Katz a girl's name?" she pointed at the man still waiting near the door.

"No!" Katz retorted, listening in. It sounded more like a question when he said it, "Come on, everyone thinks that," he sighed

"Might be because it is," Fang smirked.

Before Katz could get a reply in, Vanille had bounced, still kneeling down, in between the two of them.

"Ooh! I've thought of something to say," she grinned

"Well say it!" Katz shrugged, pointing to the mirror, "Our viewers aren't going to wait all day."

Vanille turned on the spot, looking to the mirror, and slowly stood up, wobbling slightly. Few a few seconds, she tottered forwards, before regaining her balance and straightening, facing the mirror.

Slowly, she lifted one hand, and, with a grin, started to wave it in a mildly hyperactive manner. "Hi guys!" she said, like she was cheering.

"Not the inspiring first words we were looking for," Katz muttered to himself

"Leave off," Fang gave him a light-hearted shove, "She's cute when she does that."

"Look, I get that you two are lovers and all, but could you tone it down a little?" Katz sighed

"No. Why?" Fang shot a sideways look at Katz

"Well, apart from the kids watching, as my friend Rudra said on the speakers."

"Rudra? Really? How much have names changed in the last…how long?"

"Four nine, nine years. We'll give you the catch up later. Oh, and be careful of the gossipers."

"Gossip? Do I want to ask?"

"Probably not. You're idols to the whole of P- Gran Pulse, you can't help that there was speculation."

"What kind of speculation?" there was a hard edge to Fang's voice

"There was always a group that thought of you with Vanille, but there are plenty of others."

"Oh no" Fang slumped

"Oh yes. You should see what they thought you were up to with Lightning."

"Lightning? She hit me!"

"This is all very fascinating," the voice they now knew to belong to Rudra echoes through the speakers into the room, "But can Fang please speak so we can wrap up?"

The Gran Pulsian shrugged, "Sure, why not?"

Tottering a little, though slightly more balanced than Vanille, she got to her feet, stepping forwards.

"Hey," she caught the attention of the cameras through the mirror, "I don't care what rumours you've heard in the last four hundred and ninety nine years, I love Vanille, not Lightning, not whoever else-"

"Snow?" Katz interjected

"Snow?" Fang half-spluttered, "Definitely not Snow." She turned back to the mirror, "I love Vanille, and she" Fang turned to the redhead, who nodded, "And she loves me," the Gran Pulsian concluded.

"Good enough for you?" she muttered, turning to walk past Katz

"You know I said tone it down?" Katz rolled his eyes

"She doesn't do toning down, trust me," Vanille whispered conspiratorially

"Oh, I know," Katz chuckled.

X

On the other side of the mirror, the film crew concluded the whole routine, a final few words from Freya before playing a pre-recorded CG credits sequence.

"That's a wrap, everyone," a new woman entered the room. She had pinkish hair, with a ponytail down one side, cut so it ended just above her shoulder.

"Thanks Sai," one of the people in the crew nodded, starting to pack the equipment away.

Freya looked over the seven, she had time to count this time, audience members. Despite the less-than-dramatic revealing of Fang and Vanille, and the underwhelming first words (well, underwhelming on Vanille's side at least) the crew seemed shaken. Well, they were idols. They'd probably still be buzzing about this day with their grandchildren.

Satisfied, Freya stood up, making her way out one of the doors. Babil quickly followed.

"Vanille and Fang were together after all, huh?" Babil chuckled, "Pity, I always liked the idea of Vanille and Hope."

"I really couldn't care less about your fantasies," Freya muttered, "Besides you've only been out here for a week. I've been out for a month, S-Sai dragged me out trying to get me looking at the gossip. I've never cared for that stuff."

"Sai, why is it you say 'Sai' easily but can't give me a moment's break with my name. What's wrong with Babil?"

"It's not actually a name."

"Neither is Herjo, but I haven't seen you complaining to him," Babil rolled his eyes, before looking back at Freya, "Anyway, you were saying?"

"You won't believe what one of the magazines said."

"Great."

"Hope and Snow."

"What" Babil stopped, speaking in a monotone, "You're kidding me, h-he tried to kill the guy."

"Well," was all Freya said in response.

The two turned into another route, going through a thinner junction in the corridor.

"We going to see them yet?" Babil asked

"What do you think? Of course not," Freya snapped

"I don't see why not! Katz could."

"You know why not, just look at him. If you're not going to say anything worthwhile, don't say anything full stop,"

Babil grunted, falling back behind Freya as they walked along. After a few more minutes they left the building and entered what, for all intents and purposes, looked to be a courtyard.

There was a thin covering of grass over most of it, divided by a cross of brick pathways. A relatively tall chocobo wandered across one of the grassy segments, cawing occasionally.

A door on the opposite side of the courtyard opened up. Katz, wearing his normal navy jacket, stepped through, escorting Fang and Vanille. Babil heard a warning about the press drift across the courtyard. He looked up, catching sight of the two Gran Pulsians.

"Freya," he prodded her, getting her attention and drawing her out of her reverie

"What is it this time?" she mumbled, rolling her eyes

"Katz," Babil pointed across the courtyard.

Freya's eyes widened as she noticed the two Pulsians. Quickly, she adjusted her hood, brushing a few strands of her hair back into it.

"Stay behind me," she murmured to Babil, "Stay out of sight. Head for that door," she pointed to a different door, the closest one, on the opposite side of the courtyard to Fang and Vanille.

"I don't understand why we can't just talk to them," Babil mumbled

"Not right now," Freya sighed again, "We've been over this, wait until we have more time. Preferably after they've survived the press. Get in front of me."

"Why do I have to keep shuffling around?" Babil grumbled, moving in front of Freya, blocked from view

"Because you refused to wear a hood."

"Seriously? That just makes you look more suspicious."

"Maybe, but if they're suspicious they don't know the real answer," Freya swiped a card, opening the door and re-entering the complex.

Babil snuck a look around Freya, locking eyes for a brief second with Vanille, before the doors sealed shut.

"Babil," Freya knelt down, lifting his head with two fingers, "You know we can't see them, not yet."

"I know, it's just…"

"Hard? Yes, it is. But we've waited years, we can wait a bit more."

"I hope so."

"Try being more subtle," Freya laughed, lightly clipping his ear as she got up, adjusting her hood again so her face was harder to see.


	3. Looking

**I'm still introducing some characters, while this is a Fang/Vanille centred fic, it isn't going anywhere without the others, so they're going to have quite major roles too. **

"Ooh! Chocobo!" Vanille grinned, scratching the yellow feathers on the bird's neck. "What's it called?" she tilted her head to face Katz.

"It's my Dad's," Katz smiled, almost nostalgic, "Just called it 'Choco'. He was never that good with names."

Choco cawed lightly, brushing the side of Vanille's hair with its beak.

"He likes you," Katz observed

"Aww," Vanille smiled, stroking its feathered neck a bit more gently as the bird gave off chirruping sounds.

The redhead glanced over the curled neck-feathers, catching a glimpse of two people over the courtyard. The first was wearing a grey jacket, like Vanille wore back when she was a Purge deportee, only without any extra colour or decorations. Vanille couldn't tell much about the distant figure: no features were visible, save for a split-second blurred glance of a pale face. The other person was a man, silver hair, slightly shorter than the other figure. He was also mainly wearing grey, though she caught a glimpse of something brighter beneath the jacket, before he was hidden from view by the taller figure.

For a fleeting moment, Vanille caught the male's eyes, as he peered around the other figure. He had quite bright green eyes, twinkling as he caught sight of the duo for an instant, just before the doors sealed shut.

"Chocobos sure have changed," Fang commented, smiling as Vanille started running around with the yellow bird

"How so?" Katz's eyes shot towards Vanille

"They never used to be that trusting. That one just met us and already it's horsing around," Fang took a step back as it barrelled past her, chased by an out-of-breath Vanille.

"You do have to earn their trust," Katz nodded, "Just not with Choco," Katz smiled, the grin seeming out of place on his oft-serious face.

"You really like Choco, huh?"

"I love all chocobos," Katz grinned back, running a few steps forward until he was near the sprinting Choco. He lifted one hand, making whistling noises, muttering 'Choco' in a soothing manner. Soon, the chocobo slowed its games with Vanille, lowering its head as it took long, quiet steps over to Katz. It rested its beak in one hand, while he petted it with the other.

"There, there," Katz whispered, slowly stroking it. After half a minute or so, he stepped back, turning to Fang and Vanille as the Chocobo straightened its neck, pacified.

"Meet your ride," Katz smiled, still stroking Choco. "We figured you'd rather travel in good old Pulsian style, rather than our new tech: it takes a while to get used to."

"Where are we actually going?" Fang sighed

"Oerba." Katz's word was calculated. It took a moment to sink in, but once it had, even Vanille had turned serious, almost disbelieving.

"You're kidding," her mouth dropped open

"Of course not. It was the first settlement on Pulse, Lightning and the others insisted, well, that's how history goes."

"They rebuilt Oerba?" Fang's voice was slightly disapproving

"Well," Katz scratched the side of his head, just below his fairly bushy hair, "Not _rebuilt _rebuilt, they built the settlement around it, all the old cities are left unchanged, a monument. We've got a house booked for you in that city, two floors, small garden, two bedrooms," he closed his eyes for a moment, smile playing around with the corners of his lips.

"Why'd you keep saying 'we'? How many of you are there?"

"A fair few," Katz laughed, "Seriously, Vanille, Fang, the whole of Pulse, fine, Gran Pulse, wanted you out of there."

"Who were the two over there?" Vanille pointed to the door behind the stationary Choco, "They went through it a while ago."

"Not sure, what'd they look like?"

"One had a hood, the other was shorter, silver hair," Vanille shrugged, "Didn't see much."

"Ah, sounds like Freya, and probably Babil," Katz snorted at that name, "They're the big bosses really. Then you've got Freya's sister, Sai, then there's Rudra, and my dad, Herjo." Katz counted them off on his fingers.

"But-" Vanille began

"Nuh-uh," Katz shook his head, "Can we at least wait until you get to your home before I get swamped with questions?"

"Why not now?" Vanille tilted her head, questioning though she was hopping over to Choco.

"Freya and Sai should be waiting at the house, besides, you'll have more questions when you get there, let's answer them all at once," Katz bent his knees slightly, staring into the chocobo's eyes and rustling the feathers. Choco bent its knees, cawing to signal for Vanille to get on. The redhead grinned, obliging and jumping onto the soft-yet-sturdy back of the chocobo.

"Just one question," Fang murmured, looking around as she got on behind Vanille

"Sure," Katz smiled, getting onto the front of the chocobo

"I don't wanna be squished," Vanille complained from in the middle

"Swap with Fang," Katz rolled his eyes, "You were saying?"

"Nah," Vanille piped up quickly, giggling as Choco straightened up.

"Where are all the fal'Cie?" Fang asked, "If this was anything like Cocoon we'd have seen plenty by now."

"This isn't Cocoon," Katz snapped back quickly, before blinking a couple of times, "Sorry, some of us are edgy about that. The fal'Cie have their own cities, we've reached an understanding."

"Understanding?" Vanille queried as Choco ambled along the grass

"Sure. You can't think Barthendelus and Orphan were the only talking fal'Cie! Titan talked too, my dad took me to see it once. Most just didn't have anything to say, but once the whole of Cocoon migrated down to Pulse, the fal'Cie spoke up, trying to negotiate land etc. It went pretty well: the fal'Cie have the air and plenty of space underground, as long as we don't enslave them like on Cocoon, things are fine," Katz stroked the neck of Choco for a moment. The chocobo slowed its step, amiably walking up to a gate.

"Wait till you meet Sylph," Katz gave a quick chuckle, "It, well, she, is a fal'Cie, pretty small one actually. Plenty of them live with the humans, but there's one who wants to meet you."

"Sylph? Never heard of them," Fang muttered, dismissive

"Don't be surprised, they're shy," Katz pressed himself to the thick neck of the chocobo as the gate in front of them slowly rumbled open, drawing to the sides, "The first Sylph was met by, um, Sazh, in your day. It was playing with his chocobo, well, that's what we're told."

"Did he ever name that cutie?" Vanille leant forwards, peering over Katz's shoulder

"Questions, questions," he chuckled, "Later remember?"

X

"Thank you," the man's deep voice resounded, "You've been most helpful."

"Can I go?" Sheri stood up, almost too quickly. She was in a dimly lit room: the walls looked like rusted shutters, permanently locked in place, concealing all outside light. A bulb was set in the low ceiling, illuminating most of the room, but giving way to an eerie amount of shadows, especially beneath the pale, pale blue table immediate beneath it. Either side of the rectangular table was a bare, metal-and-black-plastic chair. In one, the side of the door, Sheri had just been sitting, while in the other sat a confident ma, wearing an immaculate suit and a strip of white fabric across each side of his moderately long sandy hair. He fingered with one strip, each held on by Velcro, as if weighing his next words.

"Hm, of course," he nodded after a few seconds.

Gratefully, Sheri turned to dart out through the door. The man looked up, watching her leave.

The man was a journalist, though many would be insulted to share that job title with him. His name was Proté. Since the rescue of Fang and Vanille he'd had plenty to do: freelance, so he could go for whatever story he wanted, and he could smell one here.

Sheri had given him plenty of information, but none of it relevant. Pity.

He clicked a button on the underside of his end of the table. There was a crackle of static. He'd dialled what was, essentially, a phone.

"Yes Proté?" a kind voice seeped through

"Send in Roxy," Proté didn't speak much, unless he had to.

There was a click and a beep before the person on the other end of the line spoke again.

"She's on her way,"

Nodding, Proté clicked the line off.

With a minute or so free, Proté pulled out a folder, letting the piles of paper within fall out onto his desk. Most were sheaths of writing, but plenty were photos, a mass of them tied together. Some were still warm, from when they'd been printed, whilst some were ancient.

Proté went for one picture in particular. This photo had a whole booklet on it, and it was the booklet he opened first. The picture depicted the leading staff of the operation to rescue Fang and Vanille. Just below it, most of the image had been deleted, to focus on Freya and the hood she always wore.

Just below that, the image had been zoomed in and digitally upgraded, giving a three-centimetre-square depiction of Freya's face. Even then, only an outline of her face could be seen, the pronounced chin and pale cheek just visible. No hair could be seen, so Proté concluded it must have been tied back. The only advantage that gave him was a clear view of eyes, made bluish though how accurate that was, after how much he'd butchered the original picture, Proté wasn't sure.

He rested one finger on the image, lips pursed. "What are you hiding, Freya?"

X

"There's something you might want to look at," Katz pointed over a row of houses as he continued riding down the street on his chocobo. "You've probably seen it a lot, just not from the outside,"

The sunlight was glinting off something in the distance, and it took the two Gran Pulsians a moment to figure out what.

"Cocoon," Vanille gasped, leaning back onto Fang to get a clearer view unobstructed by Katz's wild hair.

The world was suspended, shimmering, in midair, the multiple facets of the crystal shining as sunlight streamed through it. Near the top, curls of crystal could be seen, almost in the shape of faces, while just below Cocoon, the pillar holding the world aloft shone just as brightly, if not brighter. However, there was a small section, just over three quarters of the way up, where the light didn't shine. The two Gran Pulsians could just make out a rust-coloured block of metal there, replacing a segment of the crystal. Attached to this piece of metal were two huge criss-crossing beams of scaffold, holding the metal as well as Cocoon aloft.

"All that for us?" Vanille spoke breathlessly

"Naturally," Katz smiled back, "Cost something like 50, 000 gil daily once you got crystallized, which is less than one gil a person. Problem was, it just took ages to build."

"No kidding," Fang couldn't tear her eyes away from the titanic triangle of thick metal, helping to support the tiny clip of metal that had replaced the crystal. That had replaced _them_, Fang reminded herself. "How long did you work on that little trick?"

"One seven six years building that, but Light, well, Lightning, started on the plans in the first week," Katz stroked the bobbing neck of the chocobo, slowing the bird as several bikes rocketed past.

"You know a lot of history," Vanille murmured, appreciative

"That I do," he laughed, "I was there for a lot of it."

"Huh?" Vanille recoiled back into Fang, almost instinctive

"I think he's kidding," Fang whispered softly, brushing Vanille's hair lightly aside

"Could be," Katz chuckled, "Actually, I just read a lot. It's why they made me introduce you to the world, I should be able to answer most of your questions, plus Choco likes me."

The chocobo cawed its approval as it continued to amble across the road.


	4. Seeing

**I thought I'd give the more minor characters a chapter to themselves. No Fang or Vanille in this chapter, I'm sorry to say, but there's mystery. It's building up to something major in a later chapter.  
**

"They'll be at their house soon," Babil informed, sitting opposite Freya.

"You think I don't know that?" she looked up from the mass of papers under her hands. "Sai is already there, and so is Katz. He knows the most anyway."

"You know it's not just that," Babil sighed, "They'd want you to be there."

"What they _want _never entered into things before. The l'Cie who gave their lives: I doubt they wanted that. They'll survive a bit more disappointment," Freya let out a bitter chuckle, "Hell, they might not even be disappointed."

"You know that's not true," Babil sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the lit ceiling. "You have to be there."

"If you're going to make me see them, then you should be going too."

"I don't understand why you're so stubborn," Babil grunted, starting to get up

"Oh, stubborn is it?" Freya snapped back, annoyed

"Frankly, yes. You drove the whole thing along, why do that if you're not even going to talk to them?"

"You know why." Freya looked away, ashamed

"Come on!" Babil threw his hands in the air, "You chose to, every time. Now I'm questioning why."

"You should know why: for them."

"Really? I doubt that. You won't even talk to them. The real reason is blindingly obvious."

"Enlighten me," Freya spoke coldly, coolly meeting Babil's eyes

"Guilt, pure and simple. Did you ever actually care about them, or were you just trying to save everyone, like you always do?"

Babil stood up sharply as he spoke the words, and once he'd finished, he wished he could take them back, claw the words back into his mouth if need be.

"Get out," Freya murmured, eyes coldly meeting his.

A second of peace passed.

"Get out." she said again, louder.

Reluctant, Babil inclined his head, turning. He got to the door before realizing what else he should say. He turned.

"Just remember, alright? You should come," he smiled, wilting under Freya's icy glare. Apologetic, Babil gently walked out from the room, leaving Freya alone, sitting in a well-lit, yet small, almost-prison. Well, it felt that way.

Once she was sure he had gone, Freya gently opened a drawer n her desk, removing a lone, slightly crumpled photo. She took one long, shaking look at it before placing her head in her hands and crying.

X

"You may go," Proté looked up at Roxy over his notepad. Gladly, the woman quickly left the room.

Proté looked over the notes he'd taken in the interview. Roxy had played a major role in the excavation of Vanille and Fang, he assumed her closeness to Freya would net, at the very least, a few bits of idle gossip. No such thing. His notes were in essence a sheet of paper with the word 'Roxy' at the top, underlined. The rest of the sheet was blank. She'd said nothing he didn't already know.

Sighing, Proté took out another folder, scattering a series of photos across his desk. It was partly to study them, and partly in an exercise to release pent-up frustration.

Along the far end of his desk, there was a line of slightly tinny images, from the history of the project. The first row was of the start; the first people to conceive the plan. There were a fair few people, but the trio at the front seemed to be the most important: an unnamed woman, wearing a grey jacket, a child prodigy who looked about fifteen or sixteen, reportedly her son, and another woman the other side of the small child.

The next row of photos was taken twenty or so years later. There was a tallish, thick-set man accompanied by a woman, who wore a grey cloak. The next few photos were taken just two years later. The thick set man had gone, but the woman in the grey cloak was still there, with a boy about twelve or so.

The next image was taken almost fifty years later, after the construction of the scaffold was complete. There was a sixteen year old, dark skinned boy, with a fairly tall woman, hair tied into a short side-ponytail, standing next to a woman in a grey hood.

The penultimate row was taken just ten years ago. There was a figure who could've been a younger Freya, with a little imagination. She was still dressed the same, and was accompanied by someone similar to Babil, probably his father or something. Maybe older brother.

The last photo was taken a week or so ago. Rudra, Sai, Herjo, Katz, Babil and Freya were all in it. As always, Freya wore a grey hood.

Proté froze upon looking at the last figure.

"Impossible." he murmured. He didn't generally speak often, and regarded speaking to oneself as a waste of time, but still, this time he couldn't help it.

Quickly, Proté lined all the photos up, letting them overlap just to compare one specific image.

The first photo: a woman, slim frame, grey cloak and hood, face covered. Next photo, the exact same. And the next photo: grey jacket and hood. And so on: in every photo, images spanning over one hundred years, the same person. A woman, most features unnoticeable, comparable height, basic build the same.

"Freya," Proté whispered, touching each image successively. The same woman, alive, just fine, for over one hundred and fifty years, no doubt much longer.

And she had to be hiding something. Why else would she be wearing a hood always?

"Why didn't I notice it before?" he murmured, standing up, and rolling up the photos, slipping them in his pocket.

That was it. Time to talk to her, get the story from Freya herself.

X

Freya, for her part, had freshened up, though truth be told, behind her hood anything could be going on. She was still sitting by her desk, while on the table stood a half-metre tall white pole, with what were almost green leaves growing out, ten centimetre long points, three of them, half way up it and at the top. The pole twirled on the spot, jumping up.

"Sylph," Freya sighed. The pole was in actuality a fal'Cie, one of a species. There was almost one in every household; they were adorable, though they didn't sound it, like rabbits, hopping around. They hung around humans just for titbits of food, or so they'd be petted. They all answered to the name 'Sylph', and few humans managed to tell the difference between each one. For all they knew, each night a sylph could swap with another, and no one would notice the difference. In many cases, that exact thing happened.

"Cheer up!" Sylph squeaked, hopping on the table.

"How did you even get in here?" Freya leant back, sighing.

As if to answer, the Sylph disappeared in a flash, not unlike a shining diamond appearing for a split second. In the next instant, Sylph appeared, flying by spinning its three 'leaves', just by her door. In the next second, it flashed again, popping back very close to Freya's face.

"How nice. Shoo," Freya lightly batted the fal'Cie back a step. It stared at her for a moment, leaves crumpling like a comedian's pout, before it flashed again, and vanished.

"They get everywhere," she murmured, irate.

Freya sat back for a few seconds, closing her eyes, relaxing as best she could for a minute or so. Her mind was buzzing: should she see the two Pulsians or not? She wanted to, she really wanted to, just, well, things could never be that easy, could they?

"Freya?" a voice echoed out of a speaker.

Just what she needed. Not.

"Yes, Rudra?" she muttered, annoyed

"Still haven't forgiven me huh? Anyway, someone's here to see you."

"Who?" she sighed

"Journalist. His name's Proté."

"Fine, send him in," Freya sat up straighter as a man in a suit strode into her room, shutting the door so no one could see in.

"Freya," he began, soft, almost melodic voice echoing. He sat down in front of the hooded lady, the opposite side of the table.

Wordlessly, Proté took a roll of paper out of a pocket, which he quickly flattened, placing them on the table. He turned them, so Freya could see them the right way. Quiet, he brought them all into one line. Each photo faced up, a total of six images now, each taken at major events during the ongoing operation to free Fang and Vanille.

"First, the original meeting," Proté pointed to the photo on his right, Freya's left. "Next is twelve years later, the day construction began," he moved his finger across the photos, "Third, seventy two years later, when a group of scientists invent the gas to free people from crystal stasis," Proté pointed at the fourth image, "eighteen years later, scaffold pillars reached their zenith. Fifty four years later, the pillars met in the centre, around the pillar," Proté moved his finger until he pointed to the final image, "After forty two years, the central unit was put in place, leading to this photo, taken a week ago, as Sheri prepared to ascend."

"What's the point of this?" Freya spoke calmly, not betraying the tiny thrill, partly tension, partly excitement within her.

"Every photo," Proté pointed to each in turn, "Every photo is of the most important people in the project at that time. Firstly, a blonde man, his fiancée, and a hooded lady. Second, a muscled man, and a hooded lady. Third, a child prodigy on crystals and the fal'Cie, and his adopted mother, a hooded lady. Fourth, a woman, and her elder sister: a hooded lady, fifth, a sixteen or so year old dark skinned man, clever for his age reportedly, and a hooded lady. Need I go on?"

Proté slowly lifted the last photo, placing it in the centre. "The most recent image. I have many photos documenting the growth of the project, but these few illustrate my point very well. This one especially: seven people, Sheri, Herjo, Katz, Rudra, Sai, Babil and a hooded lady: you, Freya."

"Your point?" Freya spoke quietly, calmly, voice not betraying anything.

"I had my assistant take digital snippets from twenty eight photos: did you know, every major event in the history of the project, there has been a woman with a hood not dissimilar to your own?"

"Most interesting." She was evidently sarcastic, though if Proté noticed, he didn't react

"Twenty eight," Proté repeated, taking another roll of paper from a pocket. He spread it on the table; it was just one sheet, not too thick, with a digitally enhanced clip of twenty eight photos on.

"Is this going anywhere?" Freya looked at the photos, and back up at Proté

"Need you ask?" Proté took one more A4 sheet out. On it was just one image. "My assistant also superimposed every one of these twenty eight images, spanning over two hundred years, onto one sheet. This is the result. A hooded woman, the small glimpses of her face, and the body of the cloak, all on top of each other. You know what the results are?"

"Tell me" Freya spoke, quiet, assured. She lifted the A4 sheet, each half of it having a different picture on. One side held the cloak, digitally animated so only the garment was visible, and in some cases it was labelled with small mathematical notations where the posture of the clothing had been changed, so it was in the same pose for all twenty eight clips. There was little or no overlap.

The other side of the sheet was the lower face, mouth and chin, of the occupant of the cloak. You'd be hard pressed to tell there were twenty eight images; aside for a few signs of aging, they fitted perfectly.

"A photo of you was included, Freya, in each composition," Proté spoke, "And the results are irrefutable. Not only was the same garment worn, but the woman within the cloak was the same. The same woman, for over two hundred years." Proté sat back, after delivering his bombshell.

"You expect me to be impressed by this?" Freya didn't lift her eyes away from the image.

Proté was caught off guard. "You can't change the facts. It's the same person." He stumbled over his response.

"So?" Freya spoke calmly

"So?" Proté half-spluttered, "You were here two hundred years ago, captured on film, and you say 'so'?" his calm façade was shattered.

"Yes, I do."

"Tell me how!" Proté stood up, eyes blazing.

"No," Freya stood up calmly, eyes meeting Proté's

"Who are you?" Proté almost shouted

"Freya."

"Who's Freya?"

"Me."

"Tell me who you are!" Proté was losing his temper fast at the repetitive exchange

"I did." Freya turned around, walking to her private office, one behind this room. As she paced towards it, Proté ran around the table, reaching a gap a few steps behind the hooded woman.

"You're going to tell me!" Proté half screeched, reaching out and grabbing Freya's hood, before yanking it down. He stumbled back, eyes wide, watching as she turned. She locked eyes with Proté for a moment, before lifting her hood back up.

"I think you'd better go," Freya whispered the words, backing up her statement with a cold glare.

Stumbling, shaken, Proté practically fell out of the room, mumbling a curse under his breath.


	5. Gifts

**After last chapter's focus on the minor characters, this one is more focused on Fang, Vanille and Katz, and doesn't really give too much of a role to the others. Except for one...  
**

"Are we there yet?" Vanille mumbled, rocking back and forth on the chocobo.

"Can't you tell? You did used to live here," Katz turned to speak to them, before turning again and resting his face beside Choco's

"You built a huge city on top of everything," Vanille murmured, almost sad

"Not everything," Katz replied, still facing forwards but pointing at something to the side.

Vanille turned, looking over the shining metal and plastic buildings, catching a glimpse of a desert. There was a huge spire of a dark grey/brown, much higher than any of the other houses.

"Taejin's Tower," Vanille identified

"Bingo," Katz nodded, "We're taking the route around it, the tower itself is a fal'Cie haven. It should take half an hour or so to get to Oerba."

"Half an hour?" Vanille groaned, leaning back, "We didn't take that long, and we were on foot."

"We've got a whole city to weave through," Katz replied, patting Choco on the beak. As if in response, the chocobo leapt up a little way, not able to fly due to the weight on it, but hovering a little, ascending a few metres into the air before gracefully landing on a higher road.

"There's a shortcut for you," Katz replied, "Besides, we've got a pit stop in a few minutes."

"Huh?" Fang spoke up, slightly on guard

"Pit stop, there's a Chocobo store up here I don't get the chance to visit often. Has greens in which Choco loves,"

The chocobo cawed in agreement.

"You're pretty close to Choco," Fang commented

"Of course. Had him since I was a kid. Oh, and I'll buy a little concealer for you at the store."

"Is that meant to be an insult?"

"Of course not, it's for your brand," Katz pointed at the twisted, scorched grey symbol on Fang's forearm. "They're not active, but they didn't get removed by the gas."

Vanille turned, making a curious almost squealing sound, peering at the brand. She tilted her head. Fang nodded, lifting up the fur skirt Vanille wore.

"Wait till we get to the house," Katz rolled his eyes, looking back

"It's her _brand,_" Fang replied, looking up at Katz for a moment.

"I won't ask," he shook his head, turning to look forwards, alongside Choco's head.

Fang looked down, catching sight of Vanille's brand. Like her own, it was greyed out, slightly distorted, deactivated by the gas, a scorched remnant of what was once a black and red eye.

As she watched, it glimmered with a few pale sparkles, before being washed away, as if water had flowed over it.

"All better," a squeaky voice announced. Fang looked up, seeing a white pole-thing with six green leaves on, two groups of three going around it. One in the middle, one at the top.

"Should've known," Katz chuckled, looking back for a moment, "Meet Sylph, one of the few fal'Cie allowed to live in both the fal'Cie havens and the human dwellings."

"That's me!" the Sylph jumped up in the air, spinning like a sycamore before brushing Fang's brand, washing it away also.

Another of the Sylph, whistling, hopped out of a house, spinning and flying up to the other. More of the fal'Cie hopped out, until there was a small flock following Katz, Choco, Fang and Vanille. The Sylph hopped onto each other, like gymnasts, constructing a chocobo with three people sitting on top of it. The chocobo was built solely of Sylph, but it walked along surprisingly smoothly as the Sylph jumped and bent in their constructed legs. It was like a mirror; two chocobos walking alongside each other, one yellow, one green and white.

"How many of them are there?" Vanille asked, slightly awed by the display as she reached out to pat the head of the Sylph-chocobo.

"Who knows?" Katz chuckled, "Lots. People have tried to count, sure, but they don't generally stay in place long enough."

Proving his point, the Sylph chocobo flashed white, several of the tiny fal'Cie vanishing in a diamond flash, while others simply flew away, squeaking and whistling. One of them spiralled between Fang and Vanille, whistling as it soared away.

X

Proté slumped onto his chair in his interview room. Whatever he'd expected it…it wasn't that.

Quiet, he looked at the photos on his desk. In the last ten or so minutes he'd arranged everyone one of his hundreds of photos, each one facing up, a few in piles, until they were meticulously arranged and covered almost the entire table. One pile of photos he'd only recently received; documents of the very early days, before the project had officially started. She was still there: a lady in a hood.

"You look upset," a voice sounded. Proté looked under the table to see a Sylph appear with a flash. Proté sat up, irritated by the appearance of the fal'Cie. The Sylph jumped up, spinning, until it landed in the middle of the photos. "You've been busy."

"I was working on a story," Proté grunted, grabbing the Sylph. It flashed a white diamond, and reappeared just behind Proté.

"Looks like a good story," Sylph cart-wheeled in midair as Proté made a grab for it

"It was," Proté lowered his hands, giving up at trying to catch Sylph

"A few hundred years of photos, no one goes that far and just gives up."

"I'm not giving up!" Proté snapped, slowly reaching into his pocket. "Just, I can't…"

"What's the point of all that research if you won't do anything with it?" Sylph recoiled in alarm as it saw Proté lift out a box of matches.

"Exactly. I have to move on," Proté mumbled, slowly withdrawing a match. "It was a Sylph that got me started on all this, actually, nice little thing,"

"Aren't we all?" the Sylph in the room flitted down, jumping on the matchstick and letting it fall out of Proté's hand

"Hey, stop that," Proté muttered, taking out another match, which he quickly concealed from the Sylph

"Why're you so keen to stop your story?" the Sylph hovered

"It's taken away too much of my life. Should never have begun it," Proté lit the match, watching the flame bob entrancingly

"That doesn't make someone watch all his research go up in smoke."

"You really want to know?" Proté locked his gaze on the Sylph, dropping the match and watching the photos catch alight. He stood up, taking a quick step back.

"Sure, why not?" the Sylph span across to Proté.

Proté turned to the Sylph, and quietly told it.

The fal'Cie spiralled back, gasping once before vanishing in a puff of diamond light.

Taking a last look at the photos and the fire spreading across them, Proté darted around their side, getting past the table. Quickly, as most of the table caught aflame, he grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it down.

Locked.

He started breathing heavily, watching the smoke rise to the ceiling. He hadn't locked the door, he knew he hadn't. He started pounding on the metal, hoping he'd be heard, even through the soundproofing. What had made him set the photos on fire? Not his brightest hour. He couldn't even get to the comm system; that was on the table. The table, still burning as the photos crinkled.

Proté took in a deep breath, inhaling as much of the dwindling oxygen as he could. The smoke started to grow, swelling against the domed roof.

All he heard as he closed his eyes, was the distant, haunting giggle of a Sylph.

X

"And here we are," Katz spoke quickly, sliding off the side of the chocobo, running around to pet its beak. He tossed a pouch of gil to Fang and Vanille. "Don't spend it all at once. We've already bought you the essentials, I just need to buy greens."

With that, Katz ran a little way down the street, darting sideways into a shop. Fang stepped off of Choco, before carefully helping Vanille down. Choco cawed, and plodded towards Katz, pacing around just outside the shop.

"So," Fang murmured to herself.

"Wait! I wanna buy something!" Vanille caught site of something in a shop window. She took the pouch of gil, emptying a little into her hand before giving it back to Fang. "Give me a second." She smiled, giving Fang a quick peck on the cheek.

The Gran Pulsian watched the redhead skip into a nearby shop. Fang sighed, looking around as she waited. The new, if they could be called new, roads in the city were generally quite thin, often less than a metre across, but there were five or so in most places, divided by a long, luminescent blue tube. The routes were the perfect width for the bikes most people seemed to use to travel, bikes which Fang had unpleasant memories of: they were clearly higher forms of the technology used by the Sanctum. With Choco, she'd been travelling in the slightly wider side lanes, which seemed to be rarely used. Fang had only seen three others using it, two people walking and another also on a chocobo.

"Close your eyes," Vanille's breath tickled Fang's ear

"Sure," Fang obeyed. There was a second's scuffle before Vanille moved around in front of Fang, and pressed her nose with some soft material.

"Now open!" Vanille grinned.

Fang was greeted with Vanille's smiling face, as well as seeing the redhead holding onto something. The elder Gran Pulsian gave her eyes a moment to adjust, and a few seconds more to blink, bemused. Vanille was holding a cloth doll, not just a normal doll, but a small, pudgy, child's doll. It had a knitted body, literal button eyes, as well as wild, black thread-hair and was wearing a blue drape.

It was, unmistakably, supposed to be Fang.

"I'm a doll," Fang practically spluttered

"Yep," Vanille bobbed happily.

Indignantly, Fang span around, entering the toy shop Vanille had just exited. The black haired Gran Pulsian paced in, moving past the window display where Vanille had seen the doll. She moved right to the back of the shop, to see a floor-to-ceiling cabinet. On each of the rows was a familiar face, a different person on each row.

She looked through the mass of plush toys. Herself, Hope, Snow, Sazh, even Dajh and Serah, and Lightning decorated the first shelves she saw. Fang wished Lightning was still alive, just to see her face when she was confronted with herself as a teddy.

Fang chuckled as she surveyed a higher shelf. In all his ten-centimetre-high cuddly glory, the fal'Cie Barthendelus was glaring up at her, multiple times, tiny models piled on top of each other./

"Wish you'd been like that before," Fang murmured. She knelt down, picking up the doll she'd come in to buy: a little Vanille, hair a little pinker than it was in reality, and her tiny bits of jewellery made of thin golden thread and tiny balls of plastic.

Pulling out two thousand gil (That's inflation for you) she took the Vanille plush to the counter and, after a small gasp from the counter-operator upon realizing who was buying, put down the money and received the doll.

Smiling, Fang left the shop, half wondering how they were going to carry the dolls.

"Ooh!" Vanille squealed, running over and gently taking the doll. "How'd I look?" she asked, tilting her head and facing Fang, making the toy take the same pose.

"Hm," Fang mused, "I prefer the original," the Gran Pulsian decided, smiling.

Vanille wrapped her arms around Fang, almost knocking the elder Gran Pulsian over.

"Tone it down, didn't I say?" Katz spoke, bemused, walking over to them. He lifted his carrier bag, "I see you couldn't resist buying a souvenir. Feel free to put it in my bag; the greens have their own packet."

Almost reluctantly, Vanille gently lowered mini-Fang into the bag. Fang, a bit more care-free, dropped mini-Vanille into the plastic.

"That's that," Katz chuckled, slipping a few leaves to Choco as he hefted himself back onto the chocobo. Fang and Vanille followed suite.

"Better get going before the press get here," Katz muttered to himself, patting Choco lightly

"The press?" Fang replied

"Of course the press. You're the two idols to the whole of Pulse, remember? I snuck you out the back entrance of the facility with Choco, the press out front covered most of the streets and the ones surrounding: you're big news. You'll have to face them at some point, but no doubt you'll want to be rested up by then."

Before either Gran Pulsian could reply, something began ringing. Katz mumbled something under his breath, swapping the bag to his other hand and taking a mobile phone out of his pocket.

"Yes, hi dad," he answered, waiting a second before continuing, "What'd you mean, Freya isn't- Sure, fine. Well, not fine, she needs to be there, come on! She masterminded this whole thing." Katz sighed. He turned back to the Gran Pulsians sitting behind him on the walking chocobo, "The head of the operation to rescue you is a little reluctant to actually meet you. Kind of understandable, it's just a pain," he informed them, before going back to his phone.

"No you can't tie her up and drag her there," Katz sighed into the mobile, "Was that Rudra's suggestion? Oh, you're there are you Rudra? Good, get Sai to speak to her, you know Freya always listens to her. Yeah, thanks. Bye."

Katz sighed a little more, putting his phone away.

As Choco wandered onwards, a Sylph spiralled across the sky far above, before it vanished with a twinkle.


	6. Behind The Hood

**This is an important chapter. No, really, it is.  
Prize for whoever spots the reference to Final Fantasy VII. Probably not a good prize (I haven't thought of it yet) but you'll get one.  
Oh, and before I continue, thanks to reviewer SimpleNClean92 who's helped with grammar issues, as well as other things, in previous chapters. **

The statue was constructed of stone salvaged from Cocoon. It was simply of a man in a suit, a memorial of the first Governor the new city on Gran Pulse had, back in its first few years. A plaque at the bottom identified it, though, as Choco wandered past, the two Gran Pulsians recognized the figure without needing to read it.

The plaque read: 'The first Governor of New Cocoon. Governor Bartholomew Estheim'.

"Isn't that…Hope's dad?" Vanille piped up, nudging Fang and pointing at the statue. The man, Bartholomew Estheim, was standing simply, one arm at his side, with the other reaching up to the sky, as if trying to grab something.

"Bartholomew? Sure," Katz replied before Fang could, "The first Governor we had after coming down to Pulse. The only official who was actually willing to make a start at surviving rather than trying to get back up to Cocoon."

"Who'd have thought the guy had it in him?" Fang muttered, appreciative.

"Wish I could've been there," Vanille sighed, almost wistful

"No you don't, trust me," Katz quickly responded, guiding Choco to pass closer to the statue, "It was a few months before anyone actually listened to him. Anarchy, up until the people realized they needed some controlling influence, then they voted him in. Not surprising really, the other candidates were either PSICOM or clinging to lost ideals."

"Sounds fun," Fang muttered to herself, swaying gently

"Anything but," Katz shook his head, "Nine out of ten people you'd meet would be eying you for cash, and there's no one who'd help. Ironically, the public voted for the Governor Estheim over there, the only candidate who wasn't raving solely about security measures."

Choco plodded on in silence, hopping and flapping over a barrier, before lightly touching down in a park. The bird waddled onwards, gradually slowing, at Katz's instruction, in front of a sign, just below the skywards-gazing face of Governor Bartholomew Estheim.

_Bartholomew Estheim: First Governor of Gran Pulse. His son was among the l'Cie responsible for the safety of the peoples of Cocoon, and his wife was one of the first victims claimed by the Purge._

"Why did they build the statue here of all places?" Fang asked, peering around, trying to see any landmarks

"Questions, questions," Katz looked down, lightly patting Choco, encouraging the bird to start walking again

"You always say that," Vanille interjected, accusing, jokingly prodding the chocobo driver.

"I know, just…" Katz looked away, "It's not the best story on your first day here."

"Huh? Why?" Vanille leant forwards

"Really want to know, huh?" Katz looked down at the ground, as Choco moved onwards. "It was the place the Governor was killed."

"Killed?" Vanille recoiled

"Halyard Lee Wevos, a PSICOM remnant. Needless to say, they weren't happy with a pro-Pulse Governor. It happened four, five years after the Fall. They caught the gunner almost immediately," Katz sniffed, rubbing his eyes.

"Poor Hope…" Vanille murmured, "His mother, then his father… What happened to him?"

"To Hope? Don't know, history is a little vague in the next few years."

The trio, and Choco, trotted on in silence, moving past the Governor, the figure still facing the sky.

The chocobo paced onwards, each step bringing it closer to the distant New Oerba. A flock of Sylph flew, almost as one entity, out of a diamond-shaped-flash, curling through the air. The stream of pale fal'Cie swirled towards Cocoon, moving a few metres of the impossible distance, before glimmering again and fading away.

"Where did you say you met the Sylph?" Fang murmured

"Huh, them?" Katz looked up, just in time to see them twinkle away, "Mah'habara, so the story goes. Before the mines became a fal'Cie haven, a few months after the fall. Sazh and his son were exploring the mines, when the chocobo chick in his hair ran off. D-Dajh found the chick, playing with the first Sylph ever met."

"I'm sulking," Vanille slumped, "We never had them back on Gran Pulse, and they look cute."

"You're getting one, don't worry," Katz chuckled, "There's a Sylph who had a pretty major role in the operation to get you out of there," Katz gestured towards Cocoon, "He, she or it wanted to meet you. I'm telling you, if Freya was a Sylph, things would be easier," Katz muttered the last bit to himself.

"Hey, you still didn't tell us," Vanille prodded Katz's shoulder

"Tell you what?"

"Did Sazh ever name his chocobo? Come on, we want to know, right Fang?" the redhead turned, beaming

"Sure, why not?" Fang shrugged.

"Questions, questions, as I said before. Wait till you get to your house, I can't concentrate when I'm guiding Choco," Katz replied, a little irate

"Is this your way of saying that you don't know?" Fang shot back

"If that'll make you happy," Katz sighed, stroking Choco, "I'll tell you one thing though, did you know Sazh started a new fashion?"

"Sazh? Really?" Vanille was sceptical

"Yeah. For the next hundred years or so, people carried chocobos in their hair. It was meant to bring luck. It ended up bringing mess when people forgot to house-train the chocobo chicks before carrying them around."

"Oh," Vanille grimaced, "Yuck."

"Yuck is right," Katz laughed, "It's a bit of a miracle the fashion kept on as long as it did."

Choco cawed in agreement.

There was a few moments' silence before Vanille piped up again: "Are we there yet?"

"Does it look it?" Katz groaned, "We're on the borders of New Oerba, that's all."

At that moment, one of the bikes in the centre of the road swerved, darting across and hurriedly parking just behind the ambling Choco. A man stepped off the bike, wearing a very bright orange jacket. He ran a few steps, until he was walking, quickly, aside the chocobo. He took off a greenish helmet, exposing a pale complexion and flattened, almost, greyish hair.

"Hey Katz!" the man stroked the side of Choco's head, just keeping up.

"Babil, good to see you," Katz nodded, moving his hand across Choco's neck, to shake hands with the newcomer.

"Thought you might want to know, Sai has convinced Freya after all, they're on their way, flying over the Tower. Rudra and Herjo are already there," Babil spoke quickly

"Thanks. Why'd you take this route then?""

Babil didn't reply for the next few seconds, only looking, almost subconsciously, back down the road, where he'd just come from.

"Ah, of course," Katz nodded, "The statue. Well, anyway, I'll be seeing you when we get there."

"If we get there," Vanille interjected, sighing in boredom.

Babil nodded, watching Choco go past before he turned and started running back to his bike. A few seconds later, Babil shot past, holding tightly onto his speeding vehicle.

"Who's he? I think I've seen him before," Vanille murmured, curious

"You have. He's Babil, one of the higher-ups in the project. He's one of the two you saw in the courtyard back at the base," Katz replied.

"Why did you mention the statue?" Fang spoke up, almost accusing

"Again with the questions," Katz rolled his eyes, "We're in Oerba already, it's a matter of minutes until we get to your new home, can't it wait until then?"

"One thing," Fang said, looking sideways at the blurred bikes rocketing across the main part of the road

"You've said that before. Oh, sure, why not?" Katz shrugged

"When did bikes get so fast? We had to fight a few back when there was still the Sanctum, they were nothing like that,"

"You like the bikes huh?" Katz chuckled, "Without the fal'Cie hindering our development, like they did back in Cocoon, you'd be surprised at the advances we've made. Of course, if you want fast…" Katz whispered something into Choco's ear. The chocobo rushed for twenty or so metres, sprinting a _lot _faster than its general, carefree walk.

Once it slowed again, Katz spoke up, "They used to have chocobo races around here, still do actually, twice yearly. Choco and I entered one a while back, came second, would've won if it wasn't for some guy named Joe."

"How long ago was this?" Fang rolled her eyes. Great, she'd been taken out of crystal, become a minor (possibly major) celebrity, as well as a cuddly toy, and now she was riding to a new home via racing chocobo. Could things get any more high key?

"Fifty, sixty years," Katz shrugged

"Kidding again?" Vanille poked him, a joking accusation in her voice.

"Maybe," Katz chuckled in response, "And, we're here."

Katz stroked Choco lightly, letting the bird slow down, until it stopped in front of a largish house.

"Your new home," Katz smiled, gesturing towards it. He hopped off the chocobo, taking a few steps, excited himself, over to the door.

The house had two floors. The lower floor had wide windows, making most of the room within visible, though two cream curtains were visible each side. The curtains were open in the room to the right of the front door, showing what appeared to be a dining room or some such thing; there was one, long table in the centre, with several cabinets along the edges. On the left of the door, on the bottom floor, the plain, cream curtains were pulled across, hiding the interior of the room.

The top floor of the house appeared much plainer, at least on the outside. There were no huge windows, only a couple of small ones, just enough to let light in. The walls of the house, on the outside, were pale, with a slight golden sheen.

"Floor plan should be familiar," Katz nodded, lightly putting the carrier bag, still holding greens and two dolls, by the side of the door. "We copied it as best we could from Oerba. Apparently you didn't own houses to the same degree back then, that's one thing or you to get used to here I guess, but anyway, it's the house with Bhakti in, well, that's what I was told."

Katz watched as the two Gran Pulsians got off the chocobo. He gently opened the door as they neared and, quietly, they entered the property that was now theirs. The two Gran Pulsians looked to the sides; it did look quite similar to the house in Oerba, just with more life to it, somehow, more like Oerba was in the days people lived there.

"And in here," Katz murmured, taking them into the room on the left. The curtains were drawn shut, but a little natural light seeped through them, and besides, the rest of the room was well illuminated by neon tubes along the ceiling.

"Welcome!" a voice squeaked. With a flash, a Sylph hovered up from the floor, twirling around Fang and Vanille, almost curious. Then, spinning, it flashed and vanished.

"If I'm not mistaken, that was your native Sylph," Katz chuckled, standing just ahead of them as the two Gran Pulsians stood by the doorway.

"It was," a new voice spoke up, and a man entered the room, coming through a door at the back of it, "About time you got here Katz."

"You met Babil," Katz gestured towards the newcomer

"Better known as…" prompted the newcomer

"Later," Katz sighed, "Wait for the rest,"

"Fine, S-"

"Rudra!" Katz interrupted.

A tallish man, with unkempt blonde hair reaching past his ears entered the room.

"Uncanny," muttered Fang, under her breath. She shook off the thought as Katz spoke.

"Am I missing anyone?" he mused, in a stage-whisper.

"Ha, ha," a sardonic voice called from the other room.

"Fine, come on in dad," Katz shrugged.

A dark skinned man, wearing a greenish jacket, walked into the room. He smiled sideways at Vanille, "Good to see you again,"

"Quiet Herjo," Rudra muttered, "Wait for Freya."

"Always am," Herjo chuckled to himself, taking his place next to Rudra.

"I know what you mean," Rudra muttered back.

"Anyway," Katz interjected, staccato, smiling to himself as he saw Vanille point at Herjo and nudge Fang, "For one, I did say you'd have more questions when you got here. And now, the last two people, Sai and Freya."

Slowly, a duo walked into the room. On the right was a woman in a hood, walking slowly, almost reluctant. Next to her, stood another woman, arm interlinked with the hooded Freya. The woman, who had to be Sai, on the left had short, pinkish hair, in a ponytail on one side of her head, up until her shoulder. Silent, Freya slipped her arm out of Sai's grasp. The hooded woman stood still in the centre of the room, sidelining Katz, and watching as Sai took her place standing next to Rudra.

"You two," Freya murmured. They could hear the smile in her voice. "People always thought it was impossible, so they never looked twice, never questioned. Besides, most of us look different, though not to you. Not with all of us here."

Freya slowly walked across to Babil. The silver haired man grinned up at her, the smile soon dying on his lips.

"Babil, better known as Hope," Freya nodded, smiling to herself at the shock on the two Gran Pulsians' faces. She wandered across, to Herjo. "You remember Sazh," Freya spoke softly, "And his son, Dajh, though he has grown a bit," Freya pointed over to Katz, who grinned over at Vanille.

"How are-" Vanille began.

"Questions, questions," Katz, or rather, Dajh, chuckled, "Besides, she's not finished yet."

"Rudra, as insufferable as ever," Freya began again, pointing to the tall, blonde man holding Sai in his arms, "Also known as Snow. And of course, his fiancée, Serah, not Sai."

Freya wandered to the centre of the room again.

"Don't forget Choco," Katz piped up.

"Of course," Freya nodded. Was that even her name? "The chocobo chick Sazh always used to carry around, you rode over here on it."

Fang span around on the spot, about to go back out the door to look, before deciding to face 'Freya' again.

"You really didn't think we'd leave you alone, did you?" Freya spoke again. The Sylph flashed, sparking across the room.

Silently, almost solemn, Freya grasped both sides of her hood. Gracefully, she pulled the fabric back, revealing pinkish locks, struck through with grey, the hair lightly framing unmistakable features.

"Do I really look so different?" Lightning smiled softly.


	7. Question Time

**Quite a lot of speaking this part. Sorry it took such a long time to update, I haven't really found much time to write.  
Anyway, if you're wondering where the alternate names for the characters came from, here's a little useless trivia for you.  
Freya-Lightning. Freya was the wife of Odin in Norse mythology, and Odin was Lightning's Eidolon  
Herjo-Sazh. Herjo was adapted from the Valkryie Herja. Sazh's Eidolon shares a name with a Valkryie  
Babil-Hope. Babil comes from Final Fantasy IV, and greatly resembles the future Alexander summon. Alexander is, you guessed it, Hope's Eidolon  
Rudra-Snow. In Hinduism, Rudra was an alternate name for Shiva, and you know who Shiva was...  
Sai-Serah. Well, she didn't have an Eidolon, I just made this name up, hee hee.  
****Katz-Dajh. His surname is Katzroy, I just condensed it.**

**Now that's over with, on with the chapter!**

"You said it was question time, K- Dajh?" Fang was the first to break the stunned silence, "I should bloody well hope so."

"I told you," Rudra/Snow laughed.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out they're going to have questions," Lightning sighed, "A fact you have just proven. So, if you'd let them get a word in, we can get on with it."

"It's not just me, sis," Snow lifted his hands, "They're-"

"Shut up," Lightning interrupted. Snow shrugged, lowering his hands before looking back at Fang and Vanille.

"You can speak now," Babil/Hope piped up.

"I'm glad of that," Vanille murmured to herself.

"Right," Fang stepped forwards, "First question-"

"Sazh," Vanille interjected, running across the room, she leant forwards, pouting a little at the old man, "Why couldn't you come up with a better name than 'Choco'?"

"Is that really the first thing on your mind?" Sazh laughed, patting his afro, "He's not a she, so I couldn't name it either after of you like Dajh wanted-"

"Thanks dad," Dajh interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"You said it, not me. Choco's a chocobo, what else would you suggest? I never was any good with names,"

"Can we ask the important questions now?" Fang whispered to Vanille, pressing her lips to the redhead's pigtails

"That was important," Vanille protested, turning to give Fang a quick kiss

"You've got a room," Katz/Dajh sighed, "Use it","

"They didn't used to be this bad," Hope/Babil muttered

"You didn't give us a chance," Fang smiled slyly. "Anyway, we're meant to be allowed questions. How the _hell _are you guys here?"

"Did you think we'd just leave you?" Lightning responded, "Dajh started it, back when he found the Sylph. Intelligent fal'Cie. I hate to say it, but these fal'Cie, we needed."

"The one I met stuck with us," Katz/Dajh spoke up, "Four, nine, nine years and it's still here." He lifted one hand, and, right on cue, the Sylph they'd seen a few minutes earlier flashed into existence. It twirled around his arm twice, perching on Dajh's palm.

They hadn't noticed it before, but there was a small face on the Sylph: it was like a child's drawing, an exaggerated arc of a mouth, with two perfectly round, shiny, black eyes perched, close, just above it. The two eyes seemingly blinked, turning to the colour of the pale flesh of the miniature fal'Cie for a moment.

"Of course I am," the Sylph's voice was both kind of solemn and squeaky, though its tone would have befitted a slightly deeper voice. "I don't leave a job half finished. These guys needed my help a lot in the last centuries, I took them in and out of crystal sleep, waking them up whenever the project to help you was reaching some major point. Had to take Dajh out a lot, let him age a little, and can't forget the chocobo. Lightning insisted on coming out every time, every time in those years anything was happening, there she was," the Sylph gave a chuckle as it hopped into the air, twirling over to the two Gran Pulsians and leaning close to them. With a 'hm' it flew away, landing on Sazh's hair and nestling into his afro.

"Wait a second!" Sazh shook his head, "that's Choco's seat!"

"I don't think you'll be letting him ride any time soon," the Sylph giggled, jumping and flashing before vanishing yet again.

"All the time, huh?" Fang muttered, "How long was that?"

"A little while," Lightning gave a sad smile, lifting a once-pinkish lock of hair, now stained with a few streaks of grey, "Twenty years."

"Twenty years…" Vanille gasped, a slow whisper. "I-we're s-"

"Don't," Lightning interrupted, "Don't you dare say you're sorry. You saved the whole of Cocoon, you have nothing to be sorry for. Anyone would have given their lives to help you back then, twenty years is nothing, I'd do it again if I had to. You didn't deserve to spend forever in crystal."

"Besides," Hope spoke up, almost bitter, "There was nothing for us back there."

Lightning closed her eyes for a brief second, resting a hand on Hope's shoulder. Subconsciously, Hope lifted one of his own hands, resting it on Lightning's.

"Oh yeah! Your dad," Vanille looked down,

"When he died, there was nothing keeping me there," Hope said, hand tightening around Lightning's, "Besides, I wasn't going to just leave you."

"We started planning it as soon as we could," Serah at last spoke up, "We didn't want to just forget about you, but we couldn't help, not until now."  
"Wow," Vanille murmured, amazed by the depth of devotion the friends in front of her had shown. All those years, and they hadn't forgotten, especially Lightning. Twenty years, all for one specific aim.

You couldn't say that about many friends. How many people would use so much of their life just to help you?

Then again, Vanille pondered, could she honestly say she wouldn't do the same?

"Thanks," Fang spoke, surveying the group.

"Just don't do it again, right?" Sazh put in.

As they all gave a short chuckle, the Sylph native to the house, who'd followed Lightning under her many names, over many years, appeared just outside the window with a flash. The typical white diamond, the one that appeared each time a Sylph moved that way, appeared extremely vivid that time, almost real enough for a corner to cut the glass next to it.

Sylph peered in the window, tilting its head. The leaf-like trio of limbs around its head fluttered, while the ones around its middle seemed to shimmer slightly.

"Change," it spoke the word in a voice deeper, more melodic than its previous tone. Sylph recoiled, as if surprised at itself.

"I crave…change," it whispered in that same, different voice again. Quiet again, confused itself, it peered in through the window, surveying Fang, Vanille and Lightning especially, as well as Snow, Serah, Sazh, Dajh and Hope. It looked over to Lightning, leaves crinkling. Silent, it drew a line in the air with one leaf, as if nostalgic.

"Why?" it mumbled, voice back to the normal Sylph squeaky tones, before it vanished with a flash.

Back inside the house, Dajh led Fang and Vanille out the room. The sun had set during the questioning period, and now only darkness drifted through the windows, though the walls seemed to be luminescent, illuminating the house interior.

"Ask some more tomorrow if you can think of much," Dajh informed them as they began to climb stairs, "We live nearby, we'll come to see you in the morning."

"Do we have to be awake then?" Vanille yawned.

"It'd be best if you were," chuckled Dajh, stopping as he reached the top of the staircase.

Relatively fast, he opened two doors just to the right of the staircase.

"Sorry about this," he muttered, "The builders weren't expecting a couple, so you've got two single rooms. We'll fix it tomorrow, I promise, but you'll just have to survive tonight," he looked down at them apologetically.

The room on the right was decorated with plenty of things; a few pictures on the wall, some hangings resembling dream-catchers, and a lampshade throwing impressive shadows on the pale orange walls. The bed in the middle of the room was a pale pink.

On the left, the room appeared slightly more Spartan, pale blue walls and a darker, marine blue bed.

"That's yours, Fang," Dajh pointed to the one on the left, "and that's yours, Vanille," he finished by gesturing to the one on the right.

"Hey! Wait!" there was a flash as the Sylph squealed into life. It peered at Fang and Vanille before shaking on the spot, leaves fluttering like ribbons. "You could just ask," the Sylph seemed to smile, darting into the far end of Vanille's room.

Instantly, the room was filled with a pale white light, like a diamond, like the Sylph was vanishing, only the light was larger, brighter, than normal. For a brief second, the diamond was clear, almost substantial, like glass. Far within it was the Sylph, tense, leaves in a parallel pair of trios, rippling. A curl of pale blue shone, the spark rolling down the side of its body.

Then the diamond turned opaque, the otherwise flawless sides turning to a silvery sheen, like fog. The almost-blinding light shone out from within the diamond, most of Vanille's room engulfed by the glow. A split second later, the same kind of light appeared in the back half of Fang's room.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the light gently faded away. Only three seconds had passed.

Now, Fang's room was blue right up until a point exactly half way across, where, as if a switch had been thrown, there was a sudden jump to a pale pink and orange. In Vanille's room, the opposite had taken place: the room was a normal pink/orange shade, up until half way, where it transformed into the blue of Fang's room.

The beds had been arranged so they were both in what used to be Fang's room, the blue one closest to the door, with the pinkish one the other side of it, pressed right up close to it.

"Thanks," the Sylph hovered over to them, coming out of Fang's room. For that one word, its voice was slightly deeper. Then it frowned at itself, before flashing, vanishing, and reappearing behind Fang. "I'll do what I can to help," the Sylph squealed, high-pitched voice again, before vanishing once more.

"Fine," Dajh chuckled, "Trust a Sylph. You never know what they'll do next. Well, I guess tomorrow we'll try and make the transition between rooms somewhat smoother," he slowly paced into the now shared bedroom, tracing his finger across the divide between the once-Vanille's room and the once-Fang's room.

The paint went surprisingly well together., despite the clear contrast. There was no blur, no break in the colour, just an instant where it was orange, and then, a millimetre on, an instant where it was blue. Totally smooth.

"Sylph swapped the halves of the room," Dajh muttered, "Never knew they could do that."

Curious, he knelt down on the far side, Vanille's side, of the bed. The two Gran Pulsians heard a chuckle. Dajh straightened, holding a glossy pile of paper.

"So Serah wasn't kidding," he muttered, "Magazines," he spoke louder, dropping them onto the bed. He'd been holding three of them, each with a stylized image of Cocoon, Fang and Vanille on the front. "I'd wait until tomorrow before reading them," Dajh informed them, "Maybe later. The last few days, speculation has been rampant. Trust me, you don't want to read some of the things they've come up with."

"Ooh!" Vanille squealed, taking that almost as a cue to jump onto the bed and flick through the first magazine. A few moments later, she shut the magazine and dropped the rest onto the floor, kicking them under her bed, shivering.

"Yeah," she proclaimed innocently, "Let's wait."

"Which did you read?" Dajh chuckled, kneeling down and withdrawing one of the magazines. "Ah," he at last said, upon reaching the centrespread, "Yeah, some speculation was a bit insane. I'm assuming you didn't have anything to do with my dad."

Dajh dropped the magazine, closing the article illustrated with a hand drawn image of Vanille in Sazh's embrace, and throwing it under the bed.

Dajh looked out the window behind him as a trio of Sylph flashed by, twirling in some elaborate dance through the night sky. Quietly, he closed the curtains, once orange, one blue thanks to their native Sylph's meddling.

"I'll leave you two alone," he said, walking out and closing the door.

There was an all-consuming silence lasting a few minutes, as Fang sat on one side of the bed. She lifted her lower half up, lying back on her deep blue side. Vanille, in a considerably more jumpy manner, did the same, facing up at the pale ceiling.

"Just like old times, huh?" Vanille spoke, perky and yet, almost, sad.

"No," Fang replied, staring up at the ceiling, acting intent on examining the small discontinuities down the centre of the ceiling, where the two rooms had been blended. "No, nothing could be like old times."

Vanille made an odd noise, signifying agreement, before rolling over to Fang. She lifted something she'd been holding for a while. Fang blinked, letting her eyes adjust, so she could focus on the tiny orange cuddly toy she'd bought a while ago. The Vanille doll.

Vanille giggled at Fang's bemused, cross-eyed stare. The redhead quickly lifted up the blue garbed Fang cuddly toy. She lightly placed both the teddies on the wooden headboard, the Vanille doll above Fang, and the Fang doll above her own side.

"There you go," the redhead withdrew, smiling, before lightly giving Fang a kiss.

"No snoring," Vanille wagged a finger, jokingly reprimanding Fang before she lowered her red hair to the pillow.

"I don't snore," Fang murmured in response, putting her head on the pillow, facing Vanille.

"You do," the redhead smiled back, before looking down. "We really need to go clothes shopping tomorrow, or you'll be all smelly. You've worn the same thing for the last five hundred years."

"Watch it!" Fang laughed a reply, "So have you."

"Mm," the redhead mumbled a response, snuggling closer to Fang and closing her eyes.


	8. Night

**I've found more time to write than I thought I'd be able to, so anyway, here's the next chapter.  
You've probably noticed there's a distinct separate storyline going on (the Sylph) and there's a reason for that. While this is a primarily Fanille fanfic, I usually add an extra dimension, just so the story is heading somewhere, and doesn't lose its way halfway through.  
If you're enjoying the story, please review, like most people here I thrive on reviews. I'm not holding the next chapter to ransom or anything (Or am I? Hee hee) but I just write quicker with reviews. Call it motivation.  
Oh, and if you're enjoying the story, remember that you're enjoying the story. I've got a couple of twists coming up, one of which I'm debating about using, which may get me cyber-exiled from this site.  
Curiosity piqued? Good, it should be.**

**On with the story!**

"You awake Fang?" Vanille whispered an hour or so after they'd gone to bed

"How can you tell?" the elder Gran Pulsian spoke, turning to face Vanille.

"No snoring," Vanille giggled sitting up and looking at the blue-clad Gran Pulsian despite the lack of much light. "I just can't sleep either."

"It's a lot to take in," Fang agreed, nodding, sitting up.

"Not just that," Vanille murmured, sad. She had no need of her normal act of smiling and perkiness around Fang; Fang could see to how she really felt, she didn't need to act around Fang, because Fang could help whatever made her need to act, to pretend.

"Twenty years," Vanille repeated, vision stained with the disconcerting image of Lightning, decades older.

"It's not your fault," Fang quickly spoke, "Don't even think it. She chose to live like that,"

"It happens to everyone, Fang. Everyone around us. Back on Gran Pulse, look at everyone who came close to us. They died trying to protect us, they thought we were the 'Chosen' or something, and look what happened. We didn't help at all, everyone died. And we still hurt Cocoon-"

"No Vanille, don't say that," Fang pressed her lips to Vanille's forehead, "It was my fault, I became Ragnarok. Not yours, never yours. We can't mourn them now, any way you look at, by now they'd have died no matter."

"I know…only," Vanille stopped speaking, responding to one of Fang's kisses for a brief second, "We ruin everyone's lives, Fang. Oerba, Cocoon, the Purge, Eden, the Cavalry, and how many people died after we saved Cocoon? Even if it didn't fall, how many died because of magma, Ragnarok…us. It's like we're cursed."

"You're not cursed Vanille, I'd never let that happen to you. Even if you were, it wouldn't last long, I'd do anything to get rid of it, to help you."

"Thanks Fang," Vanille cracked a smile, despite being on the verge of tears. The redhead leant forward, giving a quick, light kiss to the elder Gran Pulsian.

As she did so, the action knocked the headboard, and the little Vanille doll perched above Fang rocked, and fell, landing on her unkempt black hair.

"Someone agrees," Vanille quietly spoke, gently lifting up the doll and placing it back on the headboard.

It was disconcerting to hold that doll: to think, when she'd been born, what had the doll been then? The material it was made from came from some kind of plant, and that plant must have been less than a seed last time she was awake. When she'd been born, what had it been? A great-great-great-great-grandparent-plant? Had that even been more than a shoot back then?

Vanille released the doll, swaying a little. Things would take a little getting used to.

Just beyond the window, their Sylph flashed into existence, momentary flare of light unnoticed by anyone. It peered through a tiny crack in the curtain, frowning to itself.

"Guilt," it murmured, deep voice again, "I knew guilt."

Frowning, it span away, hovering in the air. It instinctively knew what the two Gran Pulsians had been discussing: death, the lives their presences had claimed.

"Oerba, Vercin…" the Sylph muttered, squeaking, before a deep voice hurriedly recounted the name of every citizen of Oerba who lived at the same time as Fang and Vanille. A few minutes had passed after the lightning-fast recitation was over.

"Cocoon, Jei…" it mumbled, before once again repeating the name of all those who'd lived and died in the area of Cocoon that had been scarred by Fang's first Ragnarok. Ten or so minutes passed.

"Victims of the Purge, Nora…" it recited the victims of the Purge within a minute, before swiftly moving on: "The Cavalry. Rygdea…"

After a few seconds at the incredibly speedy listing, it concluded with 'Cid Raines'.

The Sylph span on the spot, and flashed, returning to its position closer to the window just outside Fang and Vanille's room.

"Cocoon, so many more…" the Sylph mumbled, quieter, reciting the names of everyone who died as Cocoon fell.

"And beyond," it spoke in its deep voice, barely a whisper, "Like…Bartholomew Estheim," it shivered.

A tranquil moment passed, the Sylph completely still, in the air outside the house.

Then, in a louder tone, using its normal, squeaky voice, it went on to recite the names of everyone living on Cocoon at that moment, humans, monsters and fal'Cie, save for the Sylph, alike.

X

"Is this how it ends?" Sheri mumbled to herself, standing alone below the darkened skies. Around her were huge buildings, as she made her way, alone, through the city. "I pilot the machine to save Fang and Vanille, and yet I'm forgotten? Everyone's looking for the Gran Pulsians, but no one can find them, and they're the only ones anyone cares about. Forget about the people who actually did the work," Sheri grumbled.

She sighed, continuing to slowly weave through the streets at night. Ok, she was probably being unfair, the press would probably come after her once they'd spoken to the Gran Pulsians, or once they'd given up on trying to get to the duo, but still. She wasn't after the fame, not by a long shot, just, she expected at least a modicum of recognition for being responsible for the release of the two 'Chosen', the idols to Gran Pulse.

"Two l'Cie are they," a slightly squeaky voice announced, as a Sylph appeared with a flash.

"You Sylph are obsessed with them too, huh?" Sheri looked up, rolling her eyes at the Sylph spiralling down towards her.

"The Chosen, and from the North they hail," the Sylph continued reciting as it descended, stopping just to the side of Sheri.

"That's from the Analects, isn't it? From the old Gran Pulse? We learnt about them in school,"

"Endowed are they with fal'Cie Focus," the Sylph nodded.

"To bear the burden of the Beast," Sheri concluded, "We had to memorize them, you know."

"If only it was worth anything," the Sylph sighed, flittering like a leaf, bobbing alongside the walking Sheri.

"Huh?" Sheri turned to the floating fal'Cie

"Everyone does so much for them, even right back when they were first branded, they were idols to all. All for nothing. It's pitiable."

"I wouldn't say 'for nothing'" Sheri shrugged, "They saved Cocoon, that counts as plenty for me."

"All who lived then would be dead now, and even with them, many fell. Do you know how many departed this world on the day Cocoon fell?"

"Does anyone?" Sheri gave a light-hearted response to the sobering question

"87% of the vessel's population. Thirty seven million, eight hundred and sixty two thousand, four hundred and twelve. And that is the Fall alone, and not the journeys thereafter."

"So many…" Sheri stopped walking, in a silent, surprised remembrance to the nameless lost of so, so long ago.

"And if that is just the humans, what of the others?" the Sylph twirled in front of her, shimmering, "The others on Cocoon, PSICOM'S militarized units, creatures controlled by machine. The other creatures, animals at best, and those in the Arks, or those on Gran Pulse, killed by the damage to their homeland. How many lives total do you think the Chosen claimed just that once?"

"I never saw it that way,"

"You never do," Sylph reprimanded, spinning around Sheri's head, "If you're really interested, one billion, twenty thousand, six hundred and nine lives were lost that day."

"Oh my…" Sheri exhaled, amazed and appalled, for a moment feeling a pang of guilt for freeing them. Then, she remembered, how many lives would be lost had they not intervened?

"What is one more?" the Sylph whispered, leaning almost seductively close to her, resting on her shoulder.

X

"What are we going to call those dolls anyway?" Fang extricated herself from Vanille's embrace, to gesture towards the cuddly toys on the headboard.

"I think we should call that one," Vanille pointed to the Fang doll, "Tooth. It's a small Fang!" the redhead grinned, bouncing on her knees.

"And the other?" Fang chuckled at the redhead's logic

"Nuh-uh, I named one, you name the other," Vanille shook her head.

"Fine…" Fang muttered, shooting a glance towards the newly named Tooth, "How about, um… Van?"

"Van?" Vanille tilted her head, "That's a really bad name," she shook her head

"Well what would you suggest?"

"I told you, you're naming this one."

"I just did, you didn't like it."

"Fine," Vanille sighed, "We'll call her Van, but I'm not asking your advice for names any more," Vanille wagged one finger jokingly at Fang.

"I'm glad to hear that," the elder Gran Pulsian smiled, leaning forwards and quickly stealing a kiss.

Vanille giggled, pulling away, before lightly, nimbly, picking up the so-named Van, and holding the little doll up just in front of Fang.

"What about me?" Vanille asked out of the corner of her mouth, bobbing Van on the spot so as to make the doll seem to be speaking.

"Sure," Fang chuckled, giving the doll a quick peck.

The redhead lightly set the doll back down on the headboard, before quickly turning and throwing her arms around Fang.

Fang smiled, hugging the redhead back. The black haired Gran Pulsian's embrace grew somewhat slack after a minute or so. Vanille hadn't let go, the redhead was still holding on tightly, as if Fang was the only real thing. Fang could hear sniffles muffled by her sari.

"Are you crying?" Fang asked, lifting her arms to again embrace Vanille

"Mm," the redhead tried to make a brave response, but lifting her face from Fang's sari for the second necessary to make that noise let her sniffs sound audibly.

"They gave up so much for us," Vanille whispered into the soft fabric of Fang's clothing

"Nah, remember what Hope said? There was nothing for them there, his dad had died, and they used to be l'Cie. Most of Cocoon would've hated them back then, regardless," Fang closed her eyes, focusing on what she felt; the softness of Vanille's skin, the smooth cushioning of her hair. It was enough to take away whatever guilt she might be feeling. For this, she'd do anything.

"NORA," Vanille mumbled, "They left NORA."

"Their choice," Fang muttered, pressing close to the redhead, "What's done is done. We can't change it. Why the sudden focus on the past?"

"Nothing," Vanille gave a shaky smile, "Just I…I don't want to be a curse."

"Vanille," Fang leant back, until she was directly opposite the redhead's tear strewn face, "You will _never _be a curse, you hear me?"

"Thanks Fang," Vanille smiled through the drops trickling down her face, lightly kissing the other Gran Pulsian on the lips. The salty tang of the tears spoiled the moment for both of them.

"You don't see," Fang sighed, withdrawing, observing, still, Vanille's tears.

"I'm trying," Vanille pouted, taking Tooth off the headboard. "I just remember all of them like it was yesterday."

"It was yesterday, for us at least."

"I know, and that much change in a day…"

"We survived it before, remember? Back when we awoke in the Vestige, we knew no one then. We survived then, we can survive now."

"I guess," Vanille shrugged, juggling Tooth from one hand to another before giving the doll a quick cuddle. "Now, you should be sleeping," Vanille pointed to Fang, voice playful, even if her face was tearful

"Yes ma'am," Fang chuckled, marvelling at how Vanille could always switch from inconsolable to cheerful in an instant.

The redhead grinned, rolling over, facing over the edge of the bed and snuggling into the duvet, still holding onto Tooth. Fang looked down over the redhead for a few seconds, smiling, before laying back onto the pillow herself, still facing Vanille.

Sleep came easier to them that time, a brief, dreamless respite from the new, almost alien, world, but just one night wouldn't erase the guilt they both felt.


	9. Small Awakening

**The rating of this story as gone from K+ to T, due to a four letter word beginning with 'f'. I am of course referring to 'Fang'. It's hard to keep a romance K rated with her in.  
Here's the next chapter. There's a little pairing-bashing towards the end, not intended to offend anyone, it was just hard to resist.  
Writing this is turning into a dilemma I have to say, I normally like the idea of Vanille/Hope, but now I'm turning into a Fanille fan. **

"A shadow," Sylph murmured, resting on the roof of Fang and Vanille's new home, "A shadow of a dream now." Its deeper voice could be heard by none. "A puppet, but why?"

The tiny fal'Cie gave a squeak of annoyance before, in a diamond flash, turning to little more than a memory.

As the Sylph reappeared so, so far away, before flashing and moving on, only one word dominated its thoughts. "Why?" It shouted the words, in a tone deeper than a Sylph's voice, as it shot onwards.

X

Fang opened her eyes to sunlight peering through a crack in the curtains, with slender arms around her waist. She looked down, somewhat amused, to see Vanille, still asleep, holding her in a tight hug.

The black haired Gran Pulsian smiled, looking up while staying completely still. She didn't want to wake the younger woman.

Fang exhaled in slow, measured breaths, amusing herself by examining the sudden divide of room colours. She'd been watching it much of last night, well, early on at least, when she couldn't sleep, but it was just a generally fascinating phenomenon. One tiny distance between, seemingly, two worlds.

The Sylph who apparently shared their house, and had merged the rooms, appeared with a flash in the doorway. It appeared to wilt, falling a few centimetres, before straightening, muttering the word 'why?' and, with another diamond shaped flash, shot past the two Gran Pulsians, vanishing into a thin trail of sparks.

Fang sighed at the freedom of the Sylph: it could come and go whenever it wanted, who knew what else it could do, while she was stuck unable to do anything except feel guilty. Perhaps it really was like Vanille said: perhaps they really were cursed.

Vanille mumbled something, tossing and turning a little in her sleep. Fang looked down at the redhead's arms, chuckling to see Tooth, the Fang doll, still grasped in one hand.

"Fang," Vanille murmured, sleep-talking, "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," Fang whispered, watching the sleeping redhead.

"Mm, Fang…" Vanille mumbled again, as her eyes slowly opened. "Fang?"

"I'm here," the elder Gran Pulsian replied, lifting a hand to brush Vanille's soft red hair. "I'm always here."

"Yay," Vanille chirruped, giving Fang a quick peck on the cheek, before resting her head on the blue sari, snuggling into the wild black locks of hair on Fang's head. She stayed like that for a minute or so.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Fang asked eventually

"You know me too well," Vanille spoke, voice as cheerful as always, just somehow muted. "It's Katz."

"Dajh?"

"Yeah," Vanille closed her eyes, pressing closer to Fang, "Remember what happened to him? He became a l'Cie…because of us, if we weren't there…"

"Oh Vanille," Fang sighed, "You can't blame yourself for everything that happens around you."

"You didn't see Sazh though, in Nautilus, he was devastated," Vanille mumbled, "I need to talk to him."

"Sazh?"

"No, silly, Dajh. Never got the chance before," Vanille chirped, again flipping moods as she got onto her knees, peering down at Fang, "I need to know he doesn't mind."

"He won't," Fang sat up, stretching out her arms, "Ow, that's sore. Yesterday wasn't that tiring," Fang shook her arms, feeling as if she'd run the circumference of Cocoon.

"You did though," Vanille gave Fang a quick kiss on the nose, "Orphan and Ragnarok, that was still yesterday for us."

"Whew, I forgot that," Fang focused for a moment, twiddling her fingers. A few seconds passed. She frowned and tried it again, before looking down at her shoulder.

"Not a l'Cie any more, so no easy curing," she muttered to herself, "damn,"

"You should've remembered yesterday," Vanille prodded Fang's other, tattooed shoulder, "I could have healed you then."

"Is healing all you do?" Fang chuckled, "That's all you did with Orphan. If you'd done anything else you'd be as sore as I am!"

"Exactly," Vanille nodded, "Why'd you think I stuck to healing?"  
"And there I was thinking you did it because you cared about me," Fang smiled slyly, edging closer to the redhead.

"That too," Vanille squeaked as Fang neared. The elder Gran Pulsian captured the redhead's lips with her own.

"Glad to hear it," she breathed huskily, lifting one leg over Vanille and moving the unresisting redhead down to the bed.

A few minutes later, their native Sylph appeared with a flash above them. It twirled on the spot, worn out, tired, as if that was its aim. It slowly span on the spot, descending, falling slightly lower, before catching a glimpse of the sight below him. With what no doubt amounted to the Sylph approximation of a blush, it turned into a glimmering diamond, before vanishing and reappearing on the roof of the house.

It lay there for a few more minutes, mumbling to itself about concepts such a change and dreams, before it fell limp. The six leaves, both rows of three, on the Sylph fell like discarded streamers to the roof, as the main body of the Sylph panted, weary, exhausted both mentally and physically.

"What's…happening to…me?" the Sylph gasped, in its deep voice, between hurried panting.

Slowly, the leaves around the Sylph crinkled, as the slumped body of the fal'Cie was pushed into the air by those leaves. It stood at an angle, supported only by those leaves. Then, carefully, with a last push, it stood unaided, wobbling, on the roof of the house.

"Ironic," it seemed to almost smile, at some unknown event.

Stumbling forwards, the outlines of a white diamond appeared around it. Tense, concentrating, the faces of the diamond turned an opaque silvery white, and in the next instant, the diamond popped out of sight, leaving just a few tiny sparks which soon faded.

A few minutes later, the Sylph reappeared with a flash. It had been to the toy shop, where Vanille and Fang had bought Tooth and Van. Clutched between two leaves, the Sylph held a doll of its own.

Quiet, the Sylph stood its own doll up on the roof, peering at it. At the shop, they had versions of almost every person involved in the event almost five hundred years ago. From the obvious six, (Fang, Vanille, Sazh, Lightning, Snow and Hope) to the less obvious people (Bartholomew Estheim, Galenth Dysley, in human form, as well as the fal'Cie Barthendelus, Serah and Dajh) to even people in PSICOM and the Guardian Corps (Jihl Nabaat, Yaag Rosch, Rygdea, Cid Raines, Amodar, among others).

The Sylph sat with one of those dolls, staring at it, almost glaring.

"Why you?" it murmured, voice now a squeak.

A scowl passed over the otherwise cute face of the Sylph, a few flames appeared on the tips of its leaves. With a shake, the tiny specks of fire were transferred from the leaves, to the doll. The heat and light spread over the cotton cuddly toy, slowly spreading until most of its arm was little more than ash. The fire continued to move, as if spurred on by the stare of the Sylph. After a minute or so, the doll had been entirely consumed by the flame. Most of it was blackened, while the doll's head was still illuminated by the fire.

"No!" the Sylph suddenly cried out, in a deep voice. It darted the few centimetres to the ash, brushing a leaf through the lame and extinguishing it. Only a few traces of the doll's black hair remained, the rest of it was burnt beyond recognition.

Inexplicably concerned, the Sylph used a leaf to gently pick up a few of the black threads, peering closely at what was once the doll's hair.

With that thought, it flashed and, once more, was gone.

In the room below where the Sylph had stood, Fang and Vanille now lay on their respective sides of the bed.

"Are you going to do that every time I get upset?" Vanille queried, smiling

"You complaining?" Fang chuckled in response.

"Nah," Vanille chirped, "Just thinking about being upset more often."

"Stay cheerful," Fang replied, leaning over to lightly kiss the redhead, "You've only got to ask."

"Now I'm cheerful," Vanille quickly replied

"Thought so," an amused Fang leaned forwards again, giving the redhead another quick kiss on the lips. Well, it was supposed to be quick. At Vanille's silent insistence, it lasted a few seconds longer, maybe a few minutes longer.

They broke off the kiss when a voice squeaked: "You finished?"

The two Gran Pulsians turned, sitting up, to see the Sylph they'd met earlier, happily perched on the tip of their bed.

"Just, I'll come back later if you're too busy," the Sylph squeaked again, evidently holding back laughter

"What is it?" Fangs sighed, straightening her sari as she looked at the little fal'Cie

"I thought you'd want to know, Freya, Herjo, Rudra, Sai, Katz and Babil are coming. Or rather, Lightning, Sazh, Snow, Serah, Dajh and Hope. Farron, Villiers and Katzroy if you want the surnames."

"And Estheim," Vanille piped up

"What?" the Sylph tilted its head, "No, no Estheim."

"You said Hope was-" Fang began

"He is, but he's not called Estheim." The Sylph interrupted

"Huh?" Vanille frowned

"He was adopted by Lightning once his dad died, he's a Farron too. Moved in with Lightning for a few months before they started going into crystal sleep. And that reminds me, 'Smooch, 41.'"

"Do I have to say 'huh' again?" Vanille pouted

"The magazines you've got. One's called Smooch, it's focused on four hundred and ninety three year old gossip for the last week."

Frowning, Vanille leant over the side of the bed, quickly sifting through the pile of magazines until she found one with the title proudly emblazoned in a reddish purple across the front cover: 'Smooch'. On the front cover was an image of Lightning.

"This I've gotta see," Fang muttered, peering over the redhead's shoulders.

"Me too," grinned Vanille putting the magazine onto her bed and opening to page 41, as the Sylph had said.

Most of the page was relatively small text, arranged in columns, save for an image in the top right, dominating about a quarter of the column, and a one word title in a bigger font. The title was just four letters long: 'Hope'.

_Hope Farron was first known as Hope Estheim, just a child when he was branded as a l'Cie and journeyed through Cocoon with the others. Everyone knows that story, so instead we will begin our examination of history some time later, in New Cocoon, the first settlement on Gran Pulse. _

_Hope was adopted by Claire 'Lightning' Farron, with whom he journeyed with some years previously. Following the death of his father, it makes sense that he would seek solace with an old friend, but subsequently taking her name as his own was very unusual. There has been widespread speculation that on their journey together, and no doubt while they lived together, Hope and Lightning were in fact lovers._

"What?" Fang spluttered as she read that line.

"You really," the Sylph began, before flashing and reappearing just above the duo and the magazine, "_really_" it continued, speech blending imperceptibly, "don't want to know."

"Hope was 14," Vanille murmured, "She was 21…"

"People love a scandal," the Sylph squeaked.

"I bet Lightning was thrilled," Fang chuckled

"Let's just say you're holding a collector's item," the Sylph span on the spot, "Once Serah bought a copy, Light read it and went on a rampage through every shop nearby. Oh, and you might want to read the next bit."

Eagerly, Vanille returned her gaze to the magazine.

_Hope would have no doubt sought more comfort after the abrupt departure of his previous partner, Vanille-_

"Something you want to tell me?" Fang commented

"I hope not," Vanille shivered. "It's not fair, everyone's ganging up on me. Why isn't Fang in any of these?"

"She is, but she's less popular than you," the Sylph laughed, before vanishing with a flash to avoid Fang's attempt at swatting it.

"The truth hurts," it whispered, reappearing right next to her ear, before again vanishing with a flash.

There was a knock at the door before Fang could go after the Sylph.

"That'll be Light and the others," the Sylph said, hovering right up by the ceiling

"You just wait, Sylph," Fang muttered, pointing at the floating fal'Cie, before she walked out the door.

The redhead hopped up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, about to follow Fang downstairs.

"Wait a second!" the Sylph called, dragging the magazine between two of its leaves, "Try the next page."

Vanille took the Smooch magazine, still on the page about Lightning and Hope. Frowning, she turned the page, to be confronted with a bold, in both senses of the word, headline.

LIGHTNING AND SERAH: INCESTUOUS LOVERS?

Suppressing laughter, Vanille followed Fang out the door.

The Sylph rested on the bed, watching the two Gran Pulsians go to greet their old friends. It frowned, murmuring to itself.

"Why?" it spoke softly, "Unless…"

With that, it flashed and, once more, was gone.


	10. Housewarming

**Humour and Sylph this chapter.  
Anyway, I thought I'd get this next one up quickly as I'll be unable to write the next couple of days. Plus this fanfic seems to be easy to write some of the time.  
In advance, sorry for the shameless reference to another one of my stories. (I'm not telling you which one! Hee hee).  
Let me know if I make any naming mistakes. For the first part of the story I thought of Lightning and co. by their alternate names, and I did accidentally call Dajh 'Katz' a couple of times. I think I fixed most of them, but let me know if I haven't. **

**Enjoy!  
**

Lightning knocked on the door again, standing ahead of the rest of the group: Sazh with Dajh, Snow with Serah, and Hope just behind her. Lightning looked back at them before, once more, knocking on the door.

"They're coming," the Sylph who'd helped them for the last five hundred or so years appeared with a flash in front of her. "Give them a chance," the fal'Cie smiled before vanishing again. A few reddish sparks were visible for a split second once the diamond had faded.

"You're back then, huh?" Fang opened the door, looking at the arrivals.

"We haven't left you once in the last five hundred years," Lightning replied, voice harsh, eyes soft, "We're not going to start now."

"We've got gifts!" Sazh called from the back.

"Gifts?" Vanille's head popped up over Fang's shoulder.

"Of course!" Dajh called, jumping and turning, darting around his father, to three velocycles parked a little distance from the house. He lifted a person-sized grey canvas bag from next to one, heaving it over the bike and dragging it towards the two Gran Pulsians. He moved it just past the last bike before giving up, and delicately opening the sack.

First, he withdrew a, slightly rusted, long, red spear.

"We found this I the ruins of Eden, thought you'd want it back," Dajh shrugged, "Sorry it's not in better condition. Anyway, guess what was wrapped around it?"

Dajh reached into the bag, taking out a Y-shaped rod, one that looked like an antler. There were a few strings attached to the top.

"There's a good lake for fishing around here," Dajh chuckled, giving the spear and rod to Lightning, who then gave it to Fang and Vanille.

"I hope we're not going to find a use for those again," Lightning said, giving the two, ancient, weapons to the ex-l'Cie.

"Not just that!" Dajh called as everyone began to walk in, "Dad didn't tell any of you because he wasn't sure it'd work, but he fixed it with the help of our good old Sylph," Dajh smiled, peeling down the zips of the bag, around a cardboard box, a rough cube, with height similar to a human's, from foot to knee.

Careful, Dajh knelt down, gently opening the cardboard box. He used his nails to cut down the tape at the sides, until the box lay flat on the ground, the net of the shape, with its contents standing proudly in the middle. It was a grey rock, split in two halfway down, carved roughly into the shape of a cube.

"Wait, that's not-" Dajh whirled onto the chuckling Sazh

"Sorry Dajh, I didn't trust you lugging him around. He's in the house, the key's in there," Sazh pointed to the two blocks of stone.

Dajh chuckled, shaking his head, as he pushed the top block of stone off of the lower. A small, silver key glinted in a small gap. Nodding, Dajh scooped up the key, running over to the house after.

"May I come in?" he bowed in a mock-formal manner.

"Go on Fang!" Vanille hopped, "I want to see the present!"

"Why not?" the black haired Gran Pulsian shrugged, stepping back to allow Dajh access. The other friends followed.

Sazh quickly walked ahead of Dajh, guiding his child up the stairs and to the left, then back down a small corridor to a tiny locked room.

Dajh knelt down to unlock the door. Sazh stood just above him, to the side, with Fang and Vanille at the head of the small audience massing in the corridor. The other members of the crowd, Serah, Lightning, Hope and Snow, stood just behind the two Gran Pulsians.

With a click, the door unlocked, swinging back as Dajh hopped out the way.

In the room was a small machine. Its main body was a cube, a reddish brown streaked with rust, with several lights and patterns along its sides. Two binocular-like lenses protruded from the top, peering around and eventually focusing on Vanille. The machine beeped, the metal rabbit-ear-like things sticking out from above the 'eyes' waggled back and forth, knocking a long, thin aerial on the machine.

"Bhakti!" Vanille gasped, kneeling down and scrambling close to her old mechanical pet.

"That's good engineering," Sazh muttered, "It's lasted a thousand years. Well, with my tinkering it has."

"Thanks Sazh!" Vanille quickly stood up, hugging the old man.

"Hope you don't mind," Sazh spoke, once Vanille released him, "It's still mostly the old Bhakti, mostly the same old parts, though we did install something extra."

"Watch," Dajh added, kneeling down next to the pet. He fiddled a little between the machine's eyes, until there was a brief pulse of light, and an image was projected into the air.

It was a map. The two Gran Pulsians recognized it by the shape of the land and the rough layout of the towns. Gran Pulse. There were a few labelled towns, with red areas denoting the original Gran Pulse cities. Several zones were greyed out, and a key identified them as the 'fal'Cie havens', areas where the fal'Cie lived, not interfering with human affairs. The white areas were the Cocoon settlements: New Oerba, Sunleth Lake, Palum and Polum, two cities presumably derived from Palumpolum, split in half by the fal'Cie haven in the Faultwarrens.

"What's that then?" Fang pointed to a bluish area, around the size of a town, in the centre of the map.

"Let's see," Hope stepped in, "CrystalPoint. You should know it well; that's where the pillar holding Cocoon up is."

"I'm sure the crystal was never that big."

"It isn't; people aren't allowed in the surrounding area, for obvious reasons. Not that anyone wants to; if they accidently break the pillar, the fall of Cocoon will destroy the whole of Cocoon and most of Pulse, oops, Gran Pulse."

"Just hope no one tries," their Sylph appeared with a flash, drifting and sitting down onto Bhakti.

"Don't worry," Lightning smiled (to Vanille's astonishment), "There are no Maker obsessed fal'Cie anywhere near it. Though there are some fal'Cie," Lightning pointed to a little grey circle just below the blue area. "That's where the Sylph live, mostly, when they aren't all buzzing around in our cities."

The Sylph gave her a strange look from atop Bhakti.

"The Sylph," it began, voice abnormally deep, before it shook its head, leaves fluttering. "Never mind," it suddenly squeaked, hopping up. Shaking, maybe even shivering, the Sylph hopped up and vanished yet again, with a diamond flash of light.

The Sylph's departure hailed a silence for a few seconds. Fang juggled her spear, before resting on a stand in the wall, along with Vanille's binding rod. A few more seconds ticked slowly by.

"Got to go," Hope eventually spoke up, "Need to see Asura in a few minutes," he patted down his own jacket, soon taking out a tiny pouch. "She said to give you this," he said, giving the brown bag, just a few centimetres in size, to Vanille. Nodding, smiling, Hope ran down the staircase, leaving the house.

Carefully, Vanille gently pulled a string on the pouch, opening the tiny bag. She took out two things; one was a small silver brooch, adorned with a sapphire, while the other was a bracelet, the decoration on the top of the bracelet with a tiny jade stone in, with the main and of the bracelet made up of metal segments that snapped into shape.

"Thanks Hope!" Vanille called, giving the brooch to Fang, and slipping the bracelet onto her own wrist.

Fang examined the brooch for a moment, taking in the pattern. It resembled how Cocoon looked; a sapphire representing the world itself, with silver metal around it, shaped like the crystal, moving down, tapering to a point. Fang clipped it to the part of her sari that went over her shoulder.

"Who's Asura?" Vanille tilted her head.

"Hope's girlfriend," Lightning replied.

"Girlfriend?" Vanille gasped in response, a sentiment echoed by Fang.

"You were expecting a boyfriend?" Lightning said, somewhat amused

Vanille didn't reply.

"Nah," Fang took advantage of the seconds long break, "We just though you and him had something special, Light," Fang rested one hand on Lightning's shoulder.

"Magazines," Lightning murmured, annoyed and speaking through pursed lips. "I thought I destroyed every copy of that one," She sighed, exasperated.

Lightning turned around.

"Don't look at me, sis," Snow shrugged, "It was Serah."

"I know, but she's my sister and I'd rather blame you," Lightning replied

The once-pinkish haired woman took a menacing step towards Snow.

"Is Lightning…making a joke?" Vanille stage-whispered to Fang

"Don't bet on it!" Snow called, backing away. Serah sidestepped away from her fiancée, giggling a little.

There was a tense silence spanning half a minute as Lightning glared at Snow. Sylph reappeared with a flash, as if to watch the fiasco. Slowly, Lightning took one step closer before, smiling a little, looking back at Fang and Vanille.

"You know what, I won't hit him this time," Lightning said, to a sigh of relief from Snow, "Go back to the magazines," Lightning continued, "Look at who they pair Snow up with."

Serah had a suppressed fit of laughter at that remark: she bought the magazines, she was the best acquainted with what was in them.

"Lightning turned down an opportunity to hit Snow?" Vanille whispered, shocked, "Things have changed."

"Sure have," Fang nodded.

Bhakti barked once, shutting down his holographic screen in the moments that followed.

"Speaking of things changing," Vanille leered at Snow and Serah, "What about you two? Come on! I want to know!" Vanille was practically jumping up and down.

"Complicated," Snow sighed, "Very complicated."  
"Can't be too complicated if you can wrap your head around it," Lightning muttered to herself.

"I heard that!" Snow replied, "We got married in one of the first ceremonies down on Pulse, but then Serah was the first back into crystal stasis, and when we woke up, earlier this month, it turns out our marriage license was revoked, a whole new system now."

"Could've just asked," Lightning mumbled. She looked at Fang and Vanille, "There are a couple of people in the government who know who we really are, they give us jobs and identities whenever we wake up. Those two could've just asked for an updated marriage license, but, no…"

"Huh?" Vanille turned, "Why not?"

Serah smiled shyly, "A few reasons. Partly for Alexi, but-"

"Wait, Alexi?" Fang interrupted, a little tired of all the new names.

"I'm a dad!" Snow cheered in response, before his voice turned tender, "She was seven months old a hundred years ago."

"She's five now, we were there as she grew up, we wouldn't have it any other way. We wanted her to be there if we have to get married again."

"Not just that," Snow grinned.

"Why then?" Fang groaned.

Quietly, Serah stepped forwards taking two slips of paper from Snow as she moved towards the two Gran Pulsians.

"Vanille, Fang," she smiled, "We'd like you to come to our wedding."

X

Roxy lay down; she'd just finished her shopping for the day, she deserved a break. Back home, she collapsed onto the nearest chair. It was hard to move anywhere out in public; there'd been no official media looking for her, but plenty of the other people out there had seen her picture in a magazine, or some such thing. Apparently some of them had seen Sheri too, but invariably, something got in the way. With all the people mobbing her in the streets, asking for autographs or whatever, wanting to know what it felt like overseeing the release of the Chosen, well, it was a wonder she had any energy left.

"Tired?" a voice chimed. With a flash, a Sylph appeared, sitting down on the empty air just in front of her face.

"I own a door," Roxy sighed, rolling her eyes back

"Who needs doors?" the Sylph shrugged, hopping up and twirling in the air, leaves fluttering. "We've got Light."

"I've got lights too," Roxy shrugged, amused by the tiny fal'Cie's antics, "They don't warp me from place to place."

"Light, not lights. The Light that is all places."

"I'll take your word for it," Roxy sat up straighter, watching the Sylph land on a lampshade next to her armchair. Roxy breathed gently for a little while longer, still recovering from her journey.

"I would like your opinion on something," the Sylph spoke up, voice taking on a different tone, "Would you believe Barthendelus was an idiot?"

"Wouldn't everyone?" Roxy laughed,

"I know," the Sylph squeaked again, "So _self-defeating_, so many threads, but he cut off every one, save for the last. When that failed, he had nothing," the Sylph sighed.

"Not," a new Sylph appeared, joining the discussion

"Like," a third Sylph appeared with a flash, bobbing towards Roxy

"Us," a fourth Sylph almost shouted the word, breathing heavily as it moved across the room.

"So many," each word was spoken by a different Sylph, as many flashed into the room, "So many of us, each with different ideas. Some succeed, some do not. But in the end, we are everywhere, and we are everything."

Once the split-speech was concluded, a flock of Sylph, one for each word, were floating around the room. Roxy, a little worried now, sank deeper into her chair, as the first Sylph to arrive separated itself from the mass gathering, gently stopping in front of her eyes.

"You forgot us," it whispered, almost accusing.

There was a blinding flash, any observer would say it was shaped like a diamond. Each edge of the shape, two square based pyramids joined by the bottom, was several metres long, though the shape itself was almost blurred. It was as if the diamond wasn't the real image, just an aspect of an aspect, of something much greater. The diamond was blurred out by a soft, shimmering haze.

The diamond winked out of existence, taking the softly shining mist, and the room was empty.


	11. People

**Sorry if this one seems a bit disjointed, I wrote most of it today. I really should move away from my computer sometimes... Oh well. I couldn't write most of the last two days, long story, so here's this part, slightly longer than normal. This is building up to something, obviously. But what?  
Hee hee.  
This chapter features the many personalities of Lightning, an increasing mystery, and Dajh being bad at math. **

After the longer reunion was over, most people began to trickle out of the house. Lightning was the first to leave, mentioning something about a previous engagement, leaving soon after Hope. Serah and Snow took the same bike as Lightning to leave. Soon it was just Sazh and Dajh remaining, standing just outside the house.

"Where's Choco?" Vanille bounced up to them, watching the Farron/Villiers family depart.

"The stables," Dajh shrugged a reply, "Thought we'd let him rest after yesterday."

"You've got stables?" Vanille tilted her head, talking to the father and son as Fang wandered around in the house.

"Sure, how else would people look after chocobos? Well, actually we just use our garden, with a straw bed. It works. Besides, we give him his favourite greens."

"I still think he prefers my hair," Sazh added, joking

"You can feel free to try and get him in there," Dajh chuckled, "You might struggle a bit now."

"You mad? Remember when we had to train him out of that?" Sazh replied, acting dramatically shocked

"Ha, yeah," Dajh chuckled turning back to Vanille, "When Choco was about this big," Dajh held his arms about half a metre apart, height-wise, "We had to train him for a weeks to stop him jumping in dad's hair every chance he got."

"Wish I could've been there," Vanille giggled, hiding the sadness her remark inspired

"You can see the photos," Sazh interjected, "We downloaded them onto Bhakti."

"Ooh!" Vanille squealed, jumping, in response.

A few moments passed, as Fang ran out, to the front of the house. As she approached, a Sylph, not the one who lived with them, appeared with a flash, outlined for a moment by the distant crystal of Cocoon. The Sylph span on the spots, sending tiny bits of glitter falling, spiralling down, before they twinkled out.

"I just wanted to see ya," the Sylph bobbed on the spot, looking at Fang.

"Yeah, great," Fang muttered to herself, "Do you mind telling me who you are? We never heard of you back on Gran Pulse."

"This is Gran Pulse," the Sylph sighed, descending, "We weren't really public figures back then, like we are now. Besides, we only really became major once you'd become crystallized."

"How does that work?" Fang shrugged dismissively, turning away from the fal'Cie.

"It just does," the Sylph responded, vanishing with a flash quickly.

"Great," Fang sighed, "Hey, Sazh!" she turned again, from within the house, "You feel like giving me a guide to the new Bhakti?"

"Sure," the old man nodded, walking in through the doorway.

Fang watched the dark skinned man ascend the stairs. The black haired Gran Pulsian darted over to Vanille quickly, "You wanted to talk to Dajh?" she whispered to Vanille, "Now's your chance," Fang gave a quick smile, giving Vanille a quick peck on the cheek, before following Sazh.

For her part, Vanille was surprised; she'd only mentioned her desire to speak, to apologize to Dajh, when they'd just woken up, and that was a few hours ago. She hadn't expected Fang to remember it for this long, but then again, what did she expect?

"Hey, Dajh," Vanille caught the attention of Sazh's son.

"Yeah?" he turned, looking away from his father

"I," Vanille began, hesitating, "I wanted to say sorry."

"Sorry? For what, this time?"

"For before," Vanille frowned, not sure what to say, "It's because of us, because of me, that you became a l'Cie."

"That?" Dajh laughed, "Just forget it, that was years ago."

"Not for me."

"Was for me, and if you're meant to be apologizing to me, then it's my view that counts. Don't worry, I forgave you the day you saved Cocoon. I think Lightning put it pretty well: you don't have to be sorry for a thing, you could've done whatever you wanted, but in the end, you saved Cocoon."

"Thanks," Vanille smiled

"Any time. Is that all?"

"Of course, Katz," she added the last word playfully

"Call me Dajh, please. Oh, unless we're in public. Obviously, we don't want people to know who we really are: half of them would think we're liars, half of them would se the press on us, and the other half would mob us."

"That's three halves," Vanille counted them off on her fingers

"Three is better than two," he shrugged, "By the way, was Fang telling the truth, about you never hearing of the Sylph?"

"Mm," Vanille nodded. "It's strange. We used to know a lot about the fal'Cie."

"Not enough," Dajh shrugged, "Don't look at me, I'm no Sylph expert. No one is really, except for, maybe, the Sylph themselves. Hey, you've got one living here, ask it, or him, or her. Whatever pronoun you want to use."

"He's not here," Vanille flapped her arms

"Call him," Dajh shrugged, "That Sylph always listen. It's kind of unnerving, even when he isn't here, he always knows what you said, watch," Dajh turned to face the grounds in front of the house: "Sylph!" he shouted.

A few seconds passed in silence. Then, responding to the call, their native Sylph flashed into existence, twirling on the spot. It floated closer to Vanille, peering at her face. Leavings fluttering, it withdrew, shaking something off. A few crimson sparks, seemingly of electricity, fell of its minute frame, each speck of energy barely a centimetre long.

"You," it squeaked, "Almost forgot. Anyway, you called?"

"Yep," Dajh nodded, "Vanille's got a question."

"Right," the Sylph turned, hovering over to the redhead. "Ask away."

"Just curious," Vanille shrugged, "We never heard of you in Oerba, before all this, but we knew every fal'Cie on Gran Pulse in the old days."

"You want to know why? Easy," the Sylph muttered in a sing-song voice, before its voice deepened, to an almost human, male, tone, "The Sylph are not fal'Cie."

"Huh?" Vanille frowned, instinctively stepping back

"What?" the Sylph squeaked, "It's because we generally hid from humans, we used to be shy, besides, there didn't used to be too many of us."

"But you just said you weren't fal'Cie," Vanille pointed out

"No I didn't," the Sylph bobbed nervously on the spot, "Are you ok?" it flew closer to Vanille's face.

"I'm fine," Vanille murmured, confused

"She's right, you know," Dajh supplied, "You just said the Sylph weren't fal'Cie."

"You're strange," the Sylph giggled, somersaulting backwards in midair. "I know what I said," the Sylph squeaked on, deep voice long since fled. With that, the Sylph hovered sideways, circling Vanille for a moment, before vanishing in a flash. A few threads of black fabric fell, the hair of the doll it had incinerated not long ago.

The fibres scattered on the ground, before, almost as an afterthought, flashing and being brought along by the Sylph.

X

"Glad you went after all?" Hope sat the opposite side of the desk to Lightning, who was once again wearing her hood.

"Kind of," the hooded woman murmured. She'd come straight here from Fang and Vanille's house, driving the velocycle, stopping just to drop off Snow and Serah. "Aren't you meant to be with Asura?"

"I was," Hope replied, "She had to leave though, a client called."

"Client? What's her job this time?"

"Jewellery designer. Where'd you think I got the gifts for Fang and Vanille? I found the materials and made the design, she created the brooch and bracelet."

"She's pretty handy with gemstones," Lightning gave a rare compliment

"She's handy at a lot of things."

"Too much information, Hope," Lightning sighed, permitting herself a brief smile

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Besides, aren't you meant to be calling me Babil when we're in anywhere at all public?"

"Suppose so, but you really could've picked a better name," she retorted, "Is Babil even a real name?"

"Is 'Lightning'?" Hope/Babil chuckled, "Wait, did you say you were glad to see Fang and Vanille?"

"Mm, yeah. I'd almost forgotten what they were like."

"I wish I could record that," Hope chuckled, "Lightning Farron admitting she was wrong, it doesn't happen often."

"Watch it Baby," she pronounced the word bab-e, mocking his name. "I've lived in this hood so long, I was afraid of being rid of it, even for a second. It's like becoming Lightning, instead, I became Freya, withdrawn. I didn't want them to see me, not after how much I'd changed. I just didn't know how easy was to change back, back into Lightning, even back into Claire."

"Does that mean we can call you Claire now?" Hope made light of the remark

"Don't even think it," was the retort, spoken barely a split second after Hope's joke.

With that, Lightning, or Freya, or even Claire, reached across, to pull a computer screen up out of the desk in front of her. With a few taps, a keyboard appeared at the base of the screen.

"What are you doing this time?" Hope asked, banter aside

"Looking someone up," she replied, distracted, "You reminded me of someone, he pulled my hood down, recognized me. He said he was a journalist, I wanted to see if he told anyone."

Hope nodded, happy to sit back and watch the hooded lady tap away at the computer. Observant, he watched as the hood moved, as Lightning frowned. Then, a gasp later, Lightning looked up.

"It's happened again." she said

"What's happened?" Hope asked, frowning

"The journalist was called Proté, Snow took his name. He's turned up in the news just once since yesterday."

"A story?"

"No, well, yes, but not one of his."

"I don't understand."

"He's been killed. The reports think it's suicide; he locked himself in a room from the inside, and set something on fire. He suffocated."

"Right, two questions," Hope sighed, leaning forwards, "One, why do you sound so sceptical about it being suicide? Two, what do you mean 'again'?"

"Good questions," Lightning nodded approvingly, "Just ask if you want to join the GC."

"You've been asking me that for the last five hundred years. It's not going to happen. You were saying…" Hope gestured for her to speak

"Fine," she nodded, "One. If this is the same Proté, and the Guardian Corps unit assigned to the case were right, then something odd's happening. They identified the paper set aflame as a mixture of heavily inked paper, and photo paper, and if it is Proté, then the photos would have to be those of us, back through time. The ones he showed me. Next, suffocation by fire is hardly the easiest, peaceful manner of suicide, and I've been on plenty of those cases to know. Also, the door was locked from the inside, but the GC unit never found any keys in the room." Lightning panted as she finished the explanation, counting each bit of evidence off on her fingers.

"You're good, _Sergeant Farron_" Hope chuckled, "Where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us with a man who showed no inclination of suicide, killing himself in an unorthodox manner, destroying quiet possibly his greatest chance at fame, while being able to walk through walls."

"Why are things never easy for us?" Hope laughed despite the seriousness of the situation, "Anyway, you still haven't told me why you said 'again'."

"That much is easy," Lightning began, "Have you been listening to the news lately?"

"Yeah."

"Remember the disappearances reported, mostly of people in the government?"

"How could I forget?" Hope shivered slightly, "Whole rooms vanishing for hours, before being returned as ash. What's this got to do with Proté?"

"I take it back: you wouldn't be much good in the Corps," Lightning started counting off on her fingers again, "First, the Corps doesn't deal with seemingly magical killings often, once a year if at all. Proté and the disappearances happened in the same week. Second, the same trick would account for both mysteries: some way to warp around, in the case of Proté, to move the keys from one side of the door to the other. In the other case, some way to move the room or building to a hot location, and then back. Third and final, the choice of victims."

"You're like a different person when you're on a case," Hope observed, sitting back, almost afraid

"I'll take that as a compliment," the businesslike Sergeant Farron noted, "Every victim has known who we are. Proté found out the truth by examining the photos of us from the past five hundred years, and the government victims who vanished were either the ones who gave us new identities each time we awoke, or ones who were close enough to us to suspect something."

"So…" Hope prompted

"You tell me," Lightning kicked back, watching Hope.

"Are you really trying to recruit em again?" Hope sighed, "Fine."

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. From beneath her hood, Lightning watched the man, thoughts in a blur. She'd drawn her own conclusions, but while she was thinking, she needed to occupy Hope, maybe he could see something new. Besides, she wanted to get him in the mood for an investigation before she showed him the new news reports open on her computer screen.

Hope's words earlier had struck a chord: she was like a different person when she worked. Sometimes, it scared her. There were so many aspects to her, that she sometimes lost track: the aloof Lightning, the caring Claire, the distant Freya, the obsessive Sergeant Farron…

"Well," Hope began, "I'd have said whoever was doing this, was trying to make people suspicious of us, except they killed everyone who knew, who'd notice their connection to us? It's almost like whoever or whatever did this was trying to protect us."

"Full marks for Private Estheim," Lightning muttered dryly, "Now take a look at this."

Hope rolled his eyes, before looking at the news stories Lightning was pointing to.

"Two, very similar, murders," Lightning began, "Like the government killings, the contents of a room turned to ash, with a person inside it. The person was Roxy, remember her? She was one of the two who helped extract Fang and Vanille. Next is an apparent suicide, a woman who jumped off a building. The problem is, the injuries are consistent with falling from twice the height as the buildings either side of her allow. It's Sheri, the person who actually helped extract Fang and Vanille."

"You think it's the same person?" Hope breathed out slowly.

"It has to be," Lightning murmured, before standing up.

"Where are you going now?" Hope got up to follow

"Stay there Babil," Lightning stuck a hand out, "You're not in the GC, as you keep saying, you can't come. You can help though: I'm going to try and be reassigned to these supposed suicide cases."

"Yes ma'am," Hope gave a mock salute.


	12. Detective Work

**Well, here's the next chapter.  
first off: thanks to Wikipedia for the military GC ranks later on in this chapter. I know next to nothing about the military, and good old Wiki was helpful.  
Also, I've found that sometimes there's only a one line break between lines, as opposed to the normal two-line gap on this site. i don't know why it happens, and I'll try to fix it when i can.  
Other than that, enjoy!  
Sorry for tormenting you with the Sylph mystery for so long. Please, just put up with it a bit longer. I've got a specific plan for the revelations, and it's going to be a while before I get to that point. **

"When earthly vessels meet their end, the souls they housed must leave this world," Sylph recited, floating just above Fang and Vanille. It looked down, voice turning to more of a squeak, "I know all these data fragments by heart. How many do you want to hear?"

"The interesting ones," the redhead giggled.

They were sitting on a sofa, in their main room. Fang and Vanille cuddled close to each other, watching the Sylph who fluttered just above them. The original plan was to learn as much as they could from encyclopaedia-Sylph, but they'd moved on to hearing the information everyone here had of the old Gran Pulse.

"'What is this 'beyond' of which they speak?'" the Sylph quoted, "Have you heard that one?"

"Heard it?" Fang muttered, "We're the ones who _found _it."

"You remember then?" the Sylph squealed, touching Fang's lap, and sitting on it

"Of course we do," Fang lifted the Sylph by its leaves, staring into its still-smiling face

"Just double checking," it shook on the spot, trying to escape Fang's grasp. "You've lost memory in crystal stasis before. Oh, and one more thing."

"What?" Fang leant closer to the squirming fal'Cie

"You've got bad breath," the Sylph giggled, vanishing with a flash out of Fang's grip, reappearing a few steps away.

"Cheat," Fang muttered to herself, annoyed and dismissive, sitting back. "Now, have you got any history that we didn't find?"

"Her Providence?" the Sylph tilted its head, "No, sorry, you found that one too. If you told me what you want to find, I could probably be more help."

"Something about the old Gran Pulse," Fang replied, "What happened to it after we left? We never really found out before."

"Oh, that," the Sylph shrugged, "You could've just asked, we remember plenty back then."  
"'We'?" Vanille queried

"We Sylph, we did exist back then, whether or not Fang believes it."

"Right," Fang replied, slightly sarcastic, "So what happened?"

"Not sure," it admitted, "I wasn't there then. A couple of others were though, so give me a second."

Bemused, the Gran Pulsians watched their sylph as it landed on the floor, bending over and, shimmering very slightly, concentrating. A few moments passed, the Sylph shivering very, very slightly, with tiny specks of light falling off of it, each drop of light touching the carpeted floor and soaking into it. Eventually, the Sylph straightened, dimming, hopping, still on the floor, over to Fang.

"I can answer now," it said smiling, still standing on the carpet.

"What was that then?" Fang wasn't impressed

"Do you want the techno-babble, the cool sounding word or the normal explanation?"

"The normal explanation would be nice," Fang rolled her eyes

"I was communing. All Sylph are made of two: one is the Sylph's own mind, one is all Sylph. I communed with the aspect of me that was all Sylph, and took the knowledge from another Sylph who's been around that long."

"Sounds complicated," Vanille sighed, slumping.

"It's not," the Sylph shrugged a reply, "Now, you want to know what happened or not?"

"Sure," the redhead nodded vigorously, "Right Fang?"

The black haired Pulsian nodded, keeping her eyes on the sitting Sylph.

"Ok," The Sylph nodded, "So, you want to know what happened after you became crystal the first time? Well, the war continued, l'Cie after l'Cie being made and lost. Most became Cie'th: the Foci were obscure things, like rebuilding a city, guarding someone specific, gathering a few more l'Cie, even something as simply as finding a treasure."

"How would you know what their Focuses were?" Fang frowned down at the Sylph

"fal'Cie, remember?" the Sylph shrugged, taking a step towards Fang, "We can read a Focus from a l'Cie: remember, Barthendelus did it to you."  
Vanille gave a pointed look at Fang; the redhead had told her about the Sylph's forgotten confession. It claimed it wasn't a fal'Cie, and yet forgot all about saying that.

"How could you know what Barthendelus said?" Fang spoke suddenly, realizing the possible slip-up

"General knowledge," the 'fal'Cie' shrugged, "Well, that and hearing him say it."

"Which means?" Fang prompted, irate

"Sylph are in a lot of places," a look of confusion passed over its face, "If Barthendelus mentioned reading your Focus in earshot of any of us, I'd know. If you want I could give you some trivia: how about how Fang met the Cavalry, or how Hope's parents met?"

"Stalker!" Vanille broke the ominous silence by pointing, giggling at the Sylph

"Not me!" it lifted up two leaves in defence, "The others did it. There used to be a Sylph in every city, plenty in each, hiding of course. Nowadays we don't have to resort to such subterfuge. I used to be on the Fifth Ark you know, well, I think."

"You…_think_?" Fang quoted, not amused

"It's hard to remember. I saw that guy who half-turned into a Cie'th, if that helps."

"Raines?" Fang frowned, nudging the Sylph with her foot.

"That's the one," the Sylph nodding, hopping up into the air and flying up a little way, "I put you on the path. That was my Focus," it declared, in an eerily good imitation of Cid Raines' voice.

"Fine, so you were there," Fang muttered, leaning back.

"I thought we'd settled that," it sighed, "Anyway, do you feel like actually getting back on topic, or are you just going to quiz me about my private life?"

"Can't we do both?" Vanille piped up, almost disappointed. Then her face darkened somewhat, appearing more upset: "Can you tell us about any specific people?"

"Sure," the Sylph nodded quickly, "Well, most of them. There are some grey areas."

"Do you know what happened to…my parents?" Vanille stumbled over the words

"Ah, um, ok," the Sylph stuttered a reply. It closed its eyes for a moment, before speaking. "They wanted to follow you, I can tell you that much. Once you left Oerba, your mother wanted to come running after you. She almost did too, just…" its voice trailed off

"Just what?" Vanille prompted, subdued

"A Cocoon scouting party went through Oerba: they'd heard of the Chosen, and how you were supposed to be able to bring death to the vessel. They were searching for you. Along with your father, your mother tried to hold them back, to stop them finding you," the Sylph looked down, as if ashamed, "The scouts didn't like that. Your parents didn't say anything though, until the end."

"No…" Vanille gave a soft, prolonged gasp, closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry," the Sylph fluttered up, to rest a comforting hand on the redhead's shoulder, "If it helps, her last thoughts were of you: 'if I've helped my Vanille, then I've done all I ever wanted.'"

With the last quote, Vanille looked away, tearful. She could easily picture her mother speaking those words. Words spoken so many years ago, never expecting to be heard. She didn't know what to feel; glad that her mother was happy? Sad she'd died, though in any circumstances she'd have long since passed away? Grateful to the Sylph? Angry at the Sylph?

"Fang?" the Sylph slowly lifted away from Vanille, towards the elder Gran Pulsian, "Would you like to hear what happened to your parents?"

"Nah," Fang knocked the Sylph aside, instead sidling up to the redhead, taking her into a grateful embrace.

The Sylph backed away, letting the two Gran Pulsians embrace, Vanille clinging onto the other as if Fang was the only thing in the world. The redhead quietly sobbed into Fang's sari, partly wondering why she could feel such a sense of loss at one who she knew she'd never see again a thousand years ago, when she'd first set foot out of Oerba, as a l'Cie.

It was just the finality of it, she supposed. For all she knew, her parents could've been crystal somewhere, which would have been something. She could have seen them. But now, they were just dust. Lost.

"Ok," Fang eventually spoke up, changing her mind, feeling Vanille sniffling, "Tell me, I have to know."

"Your parents?" the Sylph double checked, floating a metre away

"My father," Fang responded, "I know what happened to my mother; she died before I was branded."

"Your father?" the Sylph nodded slowly, "It's a happier tale this time. He was branded not long after you, by Anima again. But he'd prepared for it: he became one of the Frozen, and died a few years later, of old age."

Fang's eyes widened slightly: she knew her father was interested in the Frozen, but she didn't think he'd actually become one.

The Frozen were l'Cie who were calm; extremely so. The l'Cie brands progressed at greater speed during psychological shock and trauma, and so, some concluded, the opposite may slow the progress of a brand. A few l'Cie, through meditation and countless other calming techniques, could all but stop the progress of their brands, giving them their nickname: the Frozen. It wasn't a cure by any means, and it took years of practise, but they could sometimes stop the progress of their brands.

"He did it for you," the Sylph murmured, "He didn't know what his Focus was; he was afraid he might become a Cie'th, afraid you might have to fight him. He didn't want to hurt anyone. His brand practically froze when he saw you ascend as Ragnarok: he knew you'd be safe."

"How…how can you know all this?" Fang shot an accusing look at the Sylph, through eyes on the verge of being filled with tears. She rarely expressed emotions like this, but the voice of the Sylph, delivering words that could so easily have been spoken by her father, were having a great effect on her.

"I just do," the Sylph replied, almost sad.

X

Hope stuck close to Lightning as they meandered through the city, presumably heading towards the Guardian Corps headquarters in this city, though Hope hadn't asked. When Lightning was like this, Sergeant Farron (or Captain Freya in the new regime), asking obvious questions was the last thing you wanted to do.

"I remember saying you couldn't come," Lightning/Freya eventually remarked, carefully moving through the city.

"And I remember you saying you wouldn't accept any 'undeserved promotions' from Sergeant, _Captain_ Freya," Hope shot back, "I thought it was the same kind of saying."

"Do you ever listen?" she sighed, withholding a small chuckle

"Too much," Hope replied, smiling.

"Are you sure you don't to join up?" Lightning persisted, "You'd be a real asset."

"You're still asking that? I just come along to help. Besides, I've got a job already."

"Yeah, helping your girlfriend make earrings," Lightning snorted, "I'd have thought you'd want something better than that."

"I had my share of excitement five hundred years ago," Hope paused to look at Lightning, "Anyway, you didn't mind Asura when it was Serah's birthday," hope smiled impishly, hurrying to catch up to Lightning, "Jealous?"

"J- oh, please don't tell me you've been reading the magazines too," Lightning let out an annoyed, rattling breath.

"Only the funny ones," Hope chuckled, "Which is usually the ones about you. You never told me you snuck off with Snow."

"Snow?" Lightning almost shouted the word, "I'd sooner hit him than- _and _he's marrying my sister, why would people think- and I thought he was supposed to be g- with you," Lightning stumbled, spluttering, through the retort

"Depends which magazine," Hope chuckled, "There are also a few with-"

"Don't tell em," Lightning turned, eyes blazing, "Don't even mention those magazines again," she turned, beginning to walk onwards, "Is there _anyone _I didn't get paired with?" she muttered the last bit to herself

"Well, there's Odin," Hope supplied, "No, wait, he was in Asgarde Publications."

"Eidolons too?" Lightning shook her head. Hope made a move to speak, but Lightning raised a hand, silencing him. "Don't say another word," she muttered, almost in a whisper, "We're nearly there, and suspicion is not what we need right now."

"You're the one in a hood," Hope retorted, obeying her nonetheless and staying silent after that.

A few minutes passed as Lightning continued leading Hope/Babil through the city. They were in a section mostly cordoned off; there'd been a crime, details not released to the public, but the security clearance given to 'Captain Freya' was enough for her to see that it looked like another case linked to the deaths of Roxy, Sheri and all the others. Not only that, but it was another of the few people who knew who Lightning and the others were. In Lightning's view, the systematic, similar, murders of all those people could not be a mere coincidence.

Lightning turned right, entering a small street, that lead to a smallish house. As she walked down, Lightning adjusted her posture and walk, to act more like Freya; slightly more aloof, slightly more distant. Behind her, Hope stiffened, standing straighter, smarter, more like his identity Doctor Babil would act.

Cautiously, Lightning adjusted the plate on her shoulder, not visible through her hood. It was similar to the Guardian Corps plate she'd worn 499 years ago, though it was slightly more decorated, signalling her higher rank, and the lights on the pad were a pale blue, as opposed to orange.

"Ma'am!" a Guardian Corps officer just in front of the house snapped a salute.

"At ease," Lightning, now as Freya instructed, taking a peek at the officer's shoulder, "2nd lieutenant," she noted, nodding

"Thank you, ma'am," the 2nd lieutenant replied, edgy, "The body is just inside. Forgive me ma'am, but I wasn't aware you were assigned to this case, ma'am."

"Drop the 'ma'am', please," Freya/Lightning sighed, "I'm assigning myself. Now, are you going to let me in?"

"Yes m-" he caught himself just in time, "But I cannot permit your friend in, only Guardian Corps personnel are allowed in. Lieutenant Wittenberg's orders."

"I'm ordering otherwise," Lightning shook her head, sighing, "Doctor Babil was allowed to help in an advisory capacity in my previous assignment, the extraction. While his other job is less than flattering," she gave Hope/Babil a pointed look, "He is a useful assistant. He's coming in with me." Lightning attempted to walk past the 2nd Lieutenant, who stood in the way.

"Ma'am!" he protested

"That's an order." She stated, tapping her shoulder pad, signalling that she was a higher rank than 'Lieutenant Wittenberg'.

"Ma'am," the officer looked down, before stepping smartly aside. A Sylph peered out from around the house, behind the officer, twinkling slightly.

Lightning/Freya and Hope/Babil walked into the house, walking through before taking and putting on plastic glove from a recently set up dispenser. They walked into the room beyond.

The floor had a soft, slightly springy, dark green carpet, with a paler green sofa against the far wall. The room was empty save for a person lying on the sofa. The person was male, laying with a head on one arm, one foot touching the other arm, and one leg laying limply off the edge. He had one arm up above his head, with the other below his body. The man lay, motionless. Water dripped down off of him, out of sodden clothes, gently soaking the floor and sofa. His face was pale, and is mouth open, gaping, staring across the room with glassy eyes.

"The victim, I take it," Hope mumbled to himself, trying not to express the horror he felt at seeing the lifeless body.

"Mm," Lightning nodded, surprised herself. "Before you ask, I read the file; he did drown, and that's salt water dripping off him right now."

"Salt water?" Hope blinked, looking at his hooded partner

"That's why we're here: it's the same kind of victim as before. He knew who we were, he gave us property to live on. Now he's here, drowned, like the others as it could've happened by moving somewhere else, then coming back. Like Roxy and Sheri."

"It's…horrible," Hope stuttered, unable to wrench his eyes from the corpse

"It doesn't get any easier," Lightning responded grimly, kneeling down next to the latest victim.


	13. Messages

**Is it just me or do these updates seem to come either very quickly or pretty slowly?  
anyway, well done to those who spotted the factual inaccuracy last chapter, there's a reason for that. You'll see.  
This fanfic now has the most chapters of any I've written. Well, it hasn't yet, I've written 13 chapter stories before, but this obviously isn't the end. I'm nattering. oh well: enjoy this chapter!**

Vanille lay sprawled across the bed, lying on both sides, across the divide, with a magazine open in front of her. For the third time in the last minute, she started to giggle. Annoyed, Fang marched over, looking down at the illustration.

"Lightning and _Snow_?" the black haired Gran Pulsian read, eyes wide.

"That's not all," Vanille responded, turning it back a page. Fang read and reread the page just to be sure.

"Hope?" she eventually commented, staring at the page, "Who came up with that idea? Snow and Hope?" she stumbled over the words, "Hope tried to kill him."

"You know what they say," Vanille shrugged, giggling.

The Sylph hovered over the top of them, "Try page 43," it squeaked, before vanishing, for the first time in quite a while.

Vanille looked up at the ceiling, looking around the room for a few seconds. Fang stood up, wandering to the window, and yanking it shut. Following her lead, Vanille rolled off the bed, getting onto her feet the opposite side of the room to Fang, and shut the door.

"That probably won't keep the Sylph out, you know," the redhead commented

"We can try," Fang replied, moving along to sit on the bed, next to Vanille. "So, are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

"What was what all about?" Vanille tilted her head

"You asked it about your parents," Fang responded, "I met you in the orphanage."

"You played along," Vanille replied, "I thought you'd figured it out; you used the same cover."

"I used the cover that I could remember," Fang frowned, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Canir and Gela, of course," Vanille bobbed on the spot, naming two inhabitants of Oerba, "Remember them?"

"Canir, Gela and Amarette," Fang chuckled, nodding slowly, understanding, "The doppelgangers,"

"They volunteered to pretend to be our parents, to distract the Cocoon soldiers," Vanille completed the thought, "Amarette was your 'father', and he was really interested in the Frozen. Canir and Gela pretended to be my parents, and they were the really brave ones."

"I know what you mean," Fang nodded, "I can just see them doing that, just like Sylph said."

The three old Gran Pulsians, Canir, Gela and Amarette had decided to help the 'Chosen', Fang and Vanille, all those years ago. The plan was to try and delay any Cocoon soldiers who'd heard the rumours of the Chosen: they'd probably pass through Oerba without stopping, if it wasn't for a distraction, a rumour that spread through Oerba within hours, that the parents of the Chosen lived there.

"It kinda makes you wonder," Vanille mused.

"How could it know all that detail about them, and yet not know they were acting?" Fang completed the thought

"Speaking of acting, I thought I was quite good at acting out there," the redhead piped up

"Of course you were," Fang smiled, running her hand through the redhead's hair.

"Hey, stop it!" Vanille protested, turning around, "You're distracting me!"

"Doesn't take much," Fang gave a sly smile

"Please," Vanille drew out the word so it lasted several seconds, "I haven't finished yet."

"I won't comment," Fang chuckled

"The Sylph said something outside," Vanille pressed on, after a groan, "It said the Sylph weren't fal'Cie."

"Huh?" for once, Fang didn't respond with innuendo, "That doesn't make any sense," the black haired Gran Pulsian frowned; "They removed our brands, how could any non-fal'Cie do that?"

"Don't look at me!" Vanille sighed, "I'm just the messenger. The really strange thing though, was that once it'd said it, the Sylph just forgot all about it."

"That's about as clever as Snow," the black haired Gran Pulsian murmured, "Unless…" Fang paused

A few moments passed in silence.

"Unless what?" Vanille eventually squealed, breaking the silence

"I thought you said you didn't want to be distracted," Fang's eyes twinkled

"Unless it's a good distraction!" Vanille hastily added, very curious now

"Well," Fang began, speaking slowly. Her eyes moved down Vanille's kneeling form suggestively

"Not _that _distraction!" Vanille flapped her arms, frantic, curiosity gnawing at her now

"It's a good distraction," Fang chuckled

"Too good," Vanille looked down, whispering, jokingly pouting, "And not the right distraction."

"There's a right and wrong distraction now?" Fang raised her eyebrows

"Fang," Vanille groaned, exhaling the word slowly

"Alright," Fang raised her hands, "I couldn't resist playing with you, anyway-"

"Don't say it," Vanille interrupted, used to Fang's dirty humour, "Just tell me what you were thinking."

"Well," Fang began again, eyes still twinkling

"Not that," Vanille interrupted again, giggling, "About the Sylph."

"The Sylph too?" Fang chuckled, widening her eyes in a mock-dramatic fashion, "I thought I was supposed to be the naughty one."

"You are," Vanille shook her head, sighing,

"Alright, I'll tell you," Fang chuckled eventually, "Remember what else the Sylph said? It said it was two people: what if one of them was saying they weren't fal'Cie, and the other thought they were?"

"Good thought," Vanille nodded appreciatively, "But you know what else?"

"What?" Fang frowned

"The Sylph said there weren't too many of them until after we went into crystal the first time, but there had to have been some before then, as the only time Canir, Gela and Amarette said they were our parents, was before Ragnarok."

"Maybe the Sylph interviewed the Cocoon soldiers," Fang shrugged

"Wouldn't be easy," Vanille slumped, "most of them would probably have returned to Cocoon to try and fight Ragnarok off. You know how that would've ended."

"Wait," Fang muttered, "The Sylph can't have been there too early, or they'd have heard of the plan."

"This is confusing," Vanille sighed, shaking her head from side to side, "The Sylph _said _they weren't really there until after we became crystal, and they had to have arrived after we left Oerba, but they were watching before Ragnarok, which was before they said they were…my head hurts."

Fang leant over and gave Vanille a comforting kiss on the forehead.

"My head's starting to feel better," Vanille admitted

"Good," Fang whispered, giving the redhead one more kiss.

Their lips met for a few seconds, gently reassuring each other wordlessly that things were going to be ok, somehow, someway. It was no worse than the events that occurred yesterday for them, and five hundred years ago for the rest of the world. They got through that, they could get through this; a new world, they'd hidden it as best they could, but it scared them. Everything was new, unknown. But they'd survive; they'd survived before, they could survive now. And preferably figure out what the Sylph were. Apart from odd.

"Do you two _ever_ stop?" a squeak interrupted them. The two broke apart, reluctant, to see their Sylph hovering just above them. "I could come back later if you wanted," it shrugged, spiralling down.

"Nah," Vanille shrugged, trying not to act suspicious, trying not to act afraid of the 'fal'Cie'.

"Did you even look at the page?" the Sylph asked, rolling its eyes

"Sorry," Vanille looked guilty, reaching over for the magazine

"Page 43," the Sylph reminded her

"Got it," she nodded, flicking through the magazine. "Huh?" she almost shouted.

Fang peered over Vanille's shoulder before also gasping: "The Shiva Sisters?" the black haired Pulsian read, "They're his Eidolons for crying out loud!"

"Lightning, Hope, the Shiva Sisters," Vanille recited, turning the page, "..and Fang," she finished, shivering, "I think he'd rather be hit by Lightning."

"Me?" Fang thundered, "No way,"

"It's true!" Vanille lifted up the page, revealing an illustration and a few paragraphs about 'bonding onboard the Lindblum'.

"I'm glad I've got you instead," Fang eventually responded, somehow getting the feeling that the illustration may well end up giving her nightmares.

X

"Rudra!" Dajh/Katz called, knocking on a door. A few seconds passed before it opened, with Sow standing there.

"I almost forgot that was my name," Snow responded, "What do you want, Katz?"

"Can I come in?" Katz asked, "It would make things easier to discuss."

"Sure, of course," Snow/Rudra nodded, inviting Dajh in, before quickly and firmly shutting the door.

"I got a message from Lightning," Dajh informed, "She says not to tell Fang or Vanille about the murders, this is meant to be their new home, we need to make it better fro them."

"Back up, murders?"

"Didn't Light tell you?" Dajh asked, "It's hopefully nothing to worry about. People linked to the project are being killed by someone."

"It sounds like something to worry about," Snow inserted

"Light and Hope are on it; as it is though, we don't seem to be in danger. It's the people that know who we are that seem to be the victims. Believe me, if this murderer did come after us, we wouldn't stand a chance."

"That's comforting," Snow shook his head, before lowering his voice, "Look, if you don't mind, could we keep this from Serah too? Our wedding's in a few weeks and I don't want to worry her."

"Sure thing, just remember what Lightning said: don't tell Fang or Vanille either."

"Got it," Snow nodded, "By the way, since you're here, do you mind helping?"

"Depends, with what?" Dajh frowned

"Something Serah and Yuj came up with when we first decided to sleep," Snow clapped his hands once, "A few clothes for Fang and Vanille. If nothing else, I managed to see Lightning try sewing."

"You're kidding!" Dajh gasped, "How'd it turn out?"

"Badly, but don't tell her I said so. Serah and I finished the last of them just now. There are a fair few, and we were going to bring them up to the couple tomorrow, but I figure, if you're here, you could probably help, right?"

"Why not?" Dajh shrugged, "I've got a spare few minutes."

X

Lightning knelt gently next to the body, closing her eyes briefly. It was a habit she'd picked up on her first case like this; close your eyes, pretend it was a dream. While she didn't abide by that philosophy any more, the action itself still brought her a little comfort. In truth, it was hard to believe anyone or anything could be inhumane enough to take someone's life like this.

She slowly pressed her finger into the sodden, springy carpet, just beneath the sofa. The water had been dripping down there for the last few hours, and a few drops of the liquid were pushed upwards as she applied pressure.

In her peripheral vision, she noticed Hope was staying back. She didn't blame him, not really. This was sickening. Still, he had to be here: Worse was going to come, she had no doubt of that, and it was better Hope got acquainted with this now, rather than later, when the situation may well be worse.

Tentatively, Lightning sniffed the air, catching the unmistakable odour of salt. She'd grown up in Bodhum, it might have been decades or centuries ago, but she hadn't forgotten that smell; the smell of the beaches.

"Seawater," she spoke aloud

"You said earlier," Hope reminded her, looking away from the victim

"It's nice to be sure," she responded, letting the tips of her rubber gloves become immersed in the water seeping out of the carpet.

"How could seawater get here?" Hope frowned, "We're in the middle of a house."

"It came off of him," Lightning pointed at the body, "Cause of death: drowning. The real question is, how did he get from under the sea to his living room sofa?"

"That's the same question as 'how did Sheri fall twice the height of the buildings around her?' or 'How did Roxy turn to ash leaving her room unharmed?'. We know what the means are, we just don't know who or how."

"More precisely, we do know the 'how', whoever's doing this appears to be able to warp around. The problem is, we don't know anyone who can do that."

For the next few minutes there was silence. Hope paced around the back of the room, while Lightning examined the steady drip, drip of salt water. After another minute of exasperating silence, Hope lashed out, kicking futilely at the wall with a shout of frustration.

"Hope!" Lightning turned around, momentarily surprised by the outburst

"How can you survive this?" Hope asked, sliding down the wall until he sat on the floor, "There's a killer out there, and we're just sitting around in here, getting nowhere. What do you expect, a signed confession?"

"It's never easy," Lightning closed her eyes, "We just keep trying."

"For all we know, the killer could be taking his next victim right now."

"Exactly. That's why we have to be here: we can't patrol the whole of Gran Pulse, we can only look where the murderer's been."

"Well you can forget trying to enlist me in your Guardian Corps," Hope muttered, frustrated, "I just can't do this."

With that, the silver haired youth turned to march out of the house.

Lightning closed her eyes, rocking on the spot and debating whether or not to run after him. She decided not to: he could make his own decisions now. Indeed, her making a decision for him had lead him here.

It was then she heard his muttered words as he walked out the final door; 'there are other ways.'

She didn't know what to make of that. Instead, she closed her eyes, tucking away her emotional side, as she'd done so often before. When she opened her eyes again, she was pure Lightning.

In complete silence, she pinched the man's fingers. A little water came out of the wrinkled skin; he'd evidently been under water for a long time, or maybe he'd been very deep.

What could do this? She mumbled the words to herself, surveying the victim. This was her favourite and least favourite part of her job: on one side, she hated the feel of death, and, though she handled it better than Hope, she was truly sickened. On the other hand however, if she did catch the murderer, the sense of satisfaction, and the knowledge so many others were safer, made it all worthwhile.

Still, she'd be perfectly happy if she never had to deal with another one of these cases again.

That was when she heard it: a shout, very, very loud, and distant. It was Hope's voice. She strained her ears to make out his words. She turned pale after the second.

A street or so away, Hope was in the middle of the crowd, yelling at the top of his voice.

The murderer was going after those who knew who they were? Lightning, Serah, Snow, Sazh, Dajh and himself, Hope. Well, take this.

"_My name_," Hope inhaled deeply, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "_Is H-_"

He started the exhalation to finish his first name, feeling the pressure. There was no going back after this point: none at all. Part of him felt guilty for subjecting all the others to this: but then again, he wasn't mentioning their identities. He was simply shouting his own; so everyone who could hear him would either be potential victims, or too many to count. How could anyone keep track of every one of these people?

In truth, he was just overwhelmed. He couldn't think.

The thoughts whirled through his head, as he continued to cry out 'Hope Estheim'.

But before he could even finish the first word, there was a flash of white light, almost like a diamond, and the silver haired shouter simply twinkled out of sight.


	14. Telling Lies

**A bit more of a light hearted chapter, after the previous cliffhanger.  
I'm trying to add a little Fanille fluff into each chapter, but the Sylph get in the way. I blame them!  
There is a big event planned in anywhere from two to five chapters' time. Things might calm down a little then.  
Until then: enjoy! **

"Sylph!" Hope gasped, partly confused, partly worried, as he gave up shouting, stumbling, instead, forwards. He straightened up, looking around; he could scarcely believe it. He was in Eden: the real Eden, wrecked, on Cocoon.

"There's no chance of anyone hearing you from here," the Sylph, a complete stranger, detached itself from holding onto him. "Do you feel like you can go back without shouting now, Hope?"

"Wait, you called me Hope," he frowned, trying to straighten out his thoughts.

"Naturally. What one Sylph knows, all Sylph know."

"Why did you take me here?" Hope demanded, staring out of the ruined dwelling he was in: it used to be someone's house, but nearly everyone had left Cocoon after the Fall. No one had lived here for a very long time.

No one, it seemed, save for the Sylph. Flocks of them were milling around, visible through the cracks in the wall. The Sylph formed elaborate shapes in the sky, twirling, flashing in and out of sight as they passed through the ruins of Eden.

"This is our home," the Sylph shrugged, serene, very different from the hyperactive members of the race Hope had seen before, "It was the easiest place for us to go."

"But why take me anywhere at all?"

"Did you hear yourself?" the Sylph landed on what may well have once been a cabinet: most of it was rotted wood, but the Sylph seemed to have taken some kind of enjoyment out of preserving the city. "You were going to shout out your name to the whole city. Did it occur to you how people would react?"

"I was trying to stop the murderer: if everyone knew, what could he do? They couldn't go after everyone."

"The killer would not need to," the Sylph shook its leaves, "It would only be after one."

"One?" Hope frowned, before his eyes widened in realization, "Oh."

"Exactly. You," the Sylph sat down, leaning back against the yellowing wall, "I take it you have seen the method of murder?"

"Method? You mean how the killer warps around?"

"Once more, exactly. You were the one who posed the threat of revelation, and the speed with which the killer moves would make it all too easy."

"Ah…thanks then," Hope at last replied, once the Sylph's words sunk in.

"Do not thank us," the Sylph lightly shook its head, leaves lightly fluttering, "It was unavoidable."

"Is that a compliment?"

"If you wish it to be. As I said, what one Sylph knows, all Sylph know. It would be hard for any of us to harm you: one of us knows you, one of us is close to you. That knowledge is shared."

"Well, thanks," Hope sat down on an ancient sofa; it shimmered slightly as he touched, possibly due to whatever Sylph magic kept it in one piece. His frustration had subsided somewhat, probably knocked out of place by the shock of finding himself, once again, on Cocoon, especially in Eden. He never really expected to come here again.

Hope tried to settle down, looking past the relaxed, sitting Sylph, to the empty space behind it, which may once have housed a window. There were still flocks of Sylph careening around, gracefully moving in titanic curves over the ruined once-Capital. Hope didn't recognize the area; well, it had been a few years since he'd ever stood in Cocoon, and as it was, it looked completely different. Crystal covered the sky; something had hollowed out this area, a bubble over the once proud city. Whenever any of the Sylph neared the roof of perfect crystal, they flashed, an instant before contacting the clear sheet.

It was exhilarating to watch: the ease with which the fal'Cie soared, drawing glittering circles under a crystalline sky. For a brief moment, Hope wondered how many there were; there didn't seem to be any shortage of them, as they all span upwards, either twinkling past or curling away from the crystal.

"Why did you choose to live here?" Hope at last mumbled, "Um, if you don't mind me asking. The city is in pieces, you're the only ones keeping it together," Hope drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, making his point as small sparks shot up.

"That's an easy question," the Sylph seemed almost wistful, "For many of us, it is home."

"Home? I thought you were Pulse fal'Cie?"

"Not as such," the Sylph shook its tiny form, "All those years ago, our choice was this: we could either leave Cocoon, or die. We didn't do that badly out of it; we returned after all. Come, look," the Sylph waved one leaf, gesturing fro Hope to come closer.

Tentatively, Hope stood up. He gently walked over to the Sylph's cabinet, peering out of the window beyond. He gasped.

Eden was in disrepair, true, but it was still as impressive as ever. Hordes of Sylph were holding it together: it looked as busy as it ever was before, the Sylph either flying around, or hopping along the ground. Hope stood in what was seemingly the penthouse of some ancient building. He didn't recognize the area, but then again, he hadn't been here for centuries.

Many of the plants below still seemed to flourish. Had the Sylph planted new ones? The one thing he could tell, was that they were doing so, so much to try and keep Eden together. He could see houses supported by walls of pure light, Sylph magic. Some of the buildings seemed to be solely composed of that energy, often dimmed somewhat, so at first glance it just looked like a luminescent wall.

"We have done our best to keep Cocoon safe," the Sylph murmured over his shoulder, "Many a Cocoon fal'Cie tried to protect the cities, but in the end, it took the efforts of millions of Sylph to protect the cities. Palumpolum, Bodhum, Eden, even the Lindblum was somewhat saved. We did what we could, and now we are the last fal'Cie to live in this shell."

"You said 'millions'," Hope began, after digesting this latest information, "How many of you are there?"

"More than you ever dared think," the Sylph seemed to chuckle to itself, "A lot."

"How much of Cocoon did you save?" Hope breathed out slowly, awed by the sight in front of him. A shining Eden populated by Sylph.

"As much as we could. Many areas had to be sacrificed, so that the crystal would not simply give way and crush the cities. We preserve the land, if not the vessel. There are many bubbles as you go deeper within the vessel, the biggest dwelling place is no doubt in the centre, where Phoenix once shone. We moulded the crystal around Hanging Edge to repair the shell. Much of the outside is ruined by crystal, as is much of the inside of Cocoon. During the Fall, our number was limited. No matter how we tried, we could not save it all."

"It looks like you did a pretty good job trying," Hope responded, eyes and mouth wide.

"Thank you," the Sylph gave a small bow, "Now, we should be taking you back to Pulse."

"You're taking me back?" Hope turned, slightly surprised

"Indeed, you expected us to kidnap you? One of our number feels protective of you, and so we all feel that way."

The Sylph gave a little kick, hovering just over the cabinet. It flew over to Hope's shoulder, touching him lightly, and engulfing them both in a blurred, diamond twinkle. The light soon faced, leaving nothing behind.

X

"We should really go out for clothes sometime," Fang muttered, pinching her sari and looking at the grimy dress distastefully.

"I thought you didn't like shopping," Vanille chirruped, hopping down the stairs to reach the other Gran Pulsian

"I don't," Fang looked up, eyes twinkling, "But I like being famous, and you heard what Dajh said."

"We're idols," Vanille sighed, "Just like being a Chosen again."

"Just with added dolls," Fang chuckled, picking up Tooth and Van from a chair, their toy counterparts

"Gimme!" Vanille squealed, snatching Tooth from the doll's human version, "I bought this one" she playfully wagged a finger, "Mine!"

"In that case, you can't have this one," Fang lifted Van slightly higher

"Don't want it," Vanille shook her head, "My one has a better name."

"It's not my fault! Vanille doesn't condense like my name,"

"But still," Vanille shook her head distastefully, "_Van_?"

"It's either Van or Ill," Fang crossed her arms, resting Van in the elbow of one arm, supported by the brooch Hope had given her.

"When you put it like that…" Vanille hopped on the spot, flipping into a sunnier disposition and bouncing over to Fang. She lifted Tooth, getting the doll to give Van a light kiss. She giggled, before lifting up Van with her spare hand and putting them on a nearby chair. The redhead straightened her back, looking up and meeting Fang's eyes.

The redhead jumped up, standing on her tiptoes to meet Fang's lips.

A few seconds later, there was a knock at the door.

Reluctantly, Vanille went back down, standing on flat feet now. She sighed, turning to go to the door.

"Just when things were getting interesting," Fang murmured, smirking.

"Are you saying I'm boring the rest of the time?" Vanille span around, still smiling, hands on her hips

"Anything but," Fang smirked again.

Before Vanille could speak, there was another knock at the door.

"Coming!" Vanille squeaked, hopping and turning around. She ignored Fang's smirk, somewhat reluctantly, to open the door.

Just outside was Katz, or rather, Dajh. His bike was just behind him, and on it lay several crinkled, opaque, plastic sheets. On closer examination, it seemed that the sheets were rectangular, human-sized bags, lots of them.

"Can I come in?" Dajh tilted his head, smiling, "There are more gifts this time, from Serah, Snow and apparently Lightning, though I doubt that happened easily."

"Sure," Vanille chirped, jumping back to let Dajh walk in, the bags and whatever was in them loosely draped over his arm.

"More gifts?" Fang crossed her arms, letting Dajh place the packets, flat, on the sofa, "What's the bad news?" the black haired Gran Pulsian asked, half-amused.

"None," Dajh grinned, "This time. It actually comes all the way from NORA, they did want to come with us in the beginning, but they were needed elsewhere. According to history, they formed a small government in the wake of Governor Estheim. Anyway, Yuj is the main one to thank, though Maqui helped a little with the practicalities, Gadot did a little work on the details, and Lebreau, well, she helped with most of it."

"What is it?" Vanille jumped up and down, curious.

"Well, it's not actually that much, after the whole build-up," Dajh looked at them apologetically, "Just clothes, three sets for each of you."

Dajh reached over, lifting up the first crinkled plastic wrap. It crackled as he pulled out a passably good replica of Vanille's current clothing, each part held close together on one, metre long hanger. Dajh opened the next bag soon after, draping Vanille's clothes over the arm of the sofa, taking care to avoid creasing it. In the next bag was a replica of Fang's toga-like clothing, and the black she wore beneath it. Dajh draped this on the arm, next to Vanille's new clothes.

"We thought we'd give you something familiar, in case you don't like the others, or just because you prefer it," Dajh explained. Then, quickly moving on, he let the empty bags fall to the floor. There were now only four bags left, and Dajh reached into the top one.

"We weren't sure on the old Pulsian style," Dajh admitted, taking out the first dress, "We did our best at guessing, partly from what you wore, partly from pictures, and partly from Sylph help. Hopefully, this won't be too bizarre."

The dress was in two parts; first, there was a peach tube top, decorated with a reddish zigzag around the hem. Second, there was a brownish pink short skirt, with sides that descended in a sharp curve-when worn, it would go the knee on only the outer side of each hip.

"That's Vanille's," Dajh spoke, gently laying it on top of the redhead's previous present, "This is Fang's," he said, upon reaching into the next bag.

Two pieces made up the latest addition to her wardrobe; a black almost-rope, ten or so centimetres thick. It was meant to be worn kind of like a bikini, and was shaped like glasses; two circles, with a lone thread connecting them. The connecting fabric would be worn down her back. The second piece of the dress was a dark navy sheet, just one rectangle, folded multiple times so as to fit in the bag. It could be worn plenty of ways, such as how Fang wore hers currently, or in a variety of other manners.

Dajh placed this delicately over Fang's previous clothes.

"Did we do well?" Dajh tilted his head, curious, "I don't know if these are very Pulsian clothes."

"They are," Vanille nodded hastily, "I used to have one just like that, only with a strap," she pointed to the tube top

"Compliments to the maker," Fang added, feeling something had to be said, "Who is that by the way?"

"Well, NORA came up with the plans, how they'd look, what materials to use, etc, etc, but the actually sewers would be Serah, Snow and, apparently, Lightning."

"Lightning?" Vanille half-gasped, "I can't picture her sewing."

"And you can picture Snow sewing?" Dajh retorted, conjuring up the ridiculous image of the muscled man struggling to fit a thread through the eye of a needle.

"But still," Vanille shook her head, "_Lightning_."

"You forget, it's been twenty years," Dajh added, before saying 'sorry' at the sudden downcast expression on the Gran Pulsians' faces. "I was there for a fair bit of it, Lightning got a few new hobbies. Alright, knitting wasn't one of them, but still."

Dajh shrugged, before turning back to the third of the new clothes.

"These are supposed to be for posh occasions," he introduced the last two opaque bags, "You may well never wear them, but Yuj wanted to design something like this."

With that, Dajh reached into the first of the last two bags. He took out a dress presumably meant for Vanille; there was one band at the top, which would probably be looped around her neck. Below that, past a steep V on the back, it blended smoothly into a slightly different fabric, forming a skirt that would go down just past her knees. It was formed of two pinkish colours; the skirt was formed of a pinkish shade ever so slightly darker than what Vanille currently wore as a top, while the top of the dress was mildly paler.

"Ooh, Yay!" Vanille hopped, "That is mine, isn't it?" she tilted her head

"Can you see Fang wearing it?" Dajh chuckled, "Of course it is. This is Fang's."

He took another dress out of the last bag. It was made up of three colours; black, a very pale sky-blue, and a darker blue not dissimilar to Fang's current wrap. The colours were splashed seemingly at random into the material, creating inky shapes, circles, blotches, all strangely, chaotically appealing. It was considerably less modest than Vanille's dress, the lower hem not reaching the knee, and it was held up by squeezing onto the wearer's frame.

"I want to try mine!" Vanille jumped over, taking the second dress, the casual non-replica, and darting to the bathroom on the lower floor. "no peeking," she wagged her finger, smiling, at Fang, before shutting the door.

"She thinks I peek," Fang shrugged at Dajh, waiting for the redhead to change

"I _know _you peek," came Vanille's retort from within the room.

A few moments later, Vanille emerged in the tube top and short skirt. "How'd I look?" she smiled, posing.

"Perfect," Fang replied, grinning, taking a step towards the redhead.

"Wait until I leave, please," Dajh coughed.

"One thing I have to ask though," Vanille piped up, giggling as she stepped back from Fang, "How did you know these would fit?" she tilted her head

"That is a good question," Fang paused, "And I'm not sure I want an answer."

"Blame the Sylph," Dajh shrugged in response, "They're the ones that told us."

"And how did _they _know?" Vanille frowned

"I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to," Dajh responded, "They could have asked Lightning, if the magazines are right."

"Lightning?" Vanille echoed. There was a moment's pause, before a flicker of understanding, passing between the two Gran Pulsians.

"You know what people write in those magazines," Dajh chuckled, "And believe me, Lightning used to be fun to speculate about."

"Speaking of Lightning," Vanille murmured, "Where is she? She looked like she didn't want to miss a second, but you're giving us something she made, and she's not here."

"Ah, don't worry," Dajh replied somewhat hastily, shaking his head, "Guardian Corps business, nothing much. She's been working overtime lately; the wedding's in a couple of weeks, Snow and Serah's I mean, and she wants everything to be safe for then."

"Trust Lightning," Fang rolled her eyes.

A ringing sound suddenly echoed. Dajh blinked, before patting himself down, eventually taking a phone out of a pocket.

"Speak of the devil," he muttered to himself, "It's Light," he said, before pressing a button and speaking into it.

"Hi, yeah, I'm with Fang and Vanille. Huh? You…wait, Hope did what? Ok, where is he- hey, don't shout! Ok, so they saw that. Fine, I'll speak to him. Ok, I'm going!" Dajh concluded, a little irritated, slipping his phone back into a pocket. "I've got to go," he spoke with pursed lips, nodding a farewell to Fang and Vanille, before turning to walk out the door. He called for Sylph as he left.

"So," Fang began, closing the door, "Where were we?" she smiled, turning to look back at Vanille.


	15. DressUp

**There's a little fluff over the next couple of chapters, just because some of the Sylph stuff is scaring me. **

"You finished playing dress-up?" Fang knocked on the door to the room Vanille had converted to a changing room. Since receiving the new clothes earlier, she'd spent most of the time trying hers on, as well as trying some of Fang's on, even mix-and-matching some later.

"Almost!" was the squeaked reply, before the door opened to reveal Vanille wearing a replica of Fang's current clothes. They looked a bit baggy on her smaller frame. "Like it?" the redhead giggled.

"Well, I can think of a few improvements," Fang stepped closer to Vanille, putting one hand on the corner of the sari.

"Don't!" a Sylph appeared with a flash behind Vanille, "I know you too well."

"I'll say," Fang muttered to herself. "You also know my measurements, or so Dajh tells me."

"A friend told me," the Sylph replied, backing away with a slight blush. "Anyway, just wanted to say hi, while I was here."

"Why are you here?" Vanille turned, tilting her head, struggling to not trip over the edges of the blue drape

"Dajh called," it shrugged, "I had to get Hope back."

"Hope? What'd he do this time?"

"He was being an idiot," the Sylph flew slightly higher into the air, before touching down on a table, just on top of Vanille's clothes which she'd changed out of

"Sounds like Hope," Vanille giggled, "What was it?"

"He was trying to get himself killed," Sylph sighed, "Another Sylph saved him, I just convinced them to put him back."

"Wait," Fang interjected, "Hope tried to kill himself?"

"No, nothing like that," The Sylph hastily shook itself, leaves fluttering in an emphatic 'no', "It's just- wait, they didn't tell you, did they?"

"Tell us what?" the black haired Gran Pulsian impatiently prompted

"Oh, I really shouldn't," the Sylph mumbled to itself, quivering. Before either Gran Pulsian could say anything however, an odd change passed over the Sylph; it froze, leaves and all, closing its eyes in a drawn out blink.

When it began to move again, leaves falling down limply, it took a few more seconds for its eyes to open.

"Alright," The Sylph began, speaking again in a deeper tone, a different voice, just like when it had confided to Vanille and Dajh that the Sylph weren't fal'Cie, "You have a right to know. Lightning believes in keeping you sheltered, but I believe the truth, no matter how unpleasant, should be spoken." The deeper voice paused to mutter quietly to itself: "Ironic."

"What happened to your voice?" Vanille tilted her head

"All Sylph are two," was the cryptic reply, "You previously spoke to Sylph," it pronounced the word with reverent scorn, "Now you speak to I-" it stopped there. It initially sounded like it was going to continue, but after it frowned, it fell silent, examining a few black threads balanced on one leaf.

"So…" Fang prompted, "What were you going to say?"

"Yes, well. There has been a string of murders, Lightning wishes you not to know, she wishes you to have sanctuary. The victims are those who know Freya is Lightning, Babil is Hope, Rudra is Snow, Herjo is Sazh, Sai is Serah, or Katz is Dajh. Hope was going to shout out his true identity, and the Sylph saved him."

Vanille gasped, putting her hands over her mouth, "I didn't think…"

For her part, Fang was irritated. She didn't like being lied to. Dajh had told them it was nothing important, just routine, just Lightning being overprotective of her sister, as always. In actuality, it seemed there was a serial killer on the loose who knew the truth about Lightning, and was hunting down the others who knew.

It took Fang a matter of seconds to begin to worry: who else knew the truth about Lightning? They did: she and Vanille.

The black haired Gran Pulsian had no doubt that Lightning also had realized this: the pink haired soldier was observant. Fang spent enough time with her to know how she thought. Lightning knew there was, at the very least, a possibility they'd be in danger. While Fang didn't doubt her intentions, it still riled her to know she'd been lied to just to keep her falsely comfortable.

"Thanks, Sylph," Fang muttered gruffly. In response, the 'fal'Cie' span around on the spot, before suddenly glimmering. A moment later it spoken again, once more using a squeaky, high-pitched voice.

"Got to go!" the Sylph spoke, spinning madly, tiny glimmers of light twirling away from it, "I need to go to the Sylph hospital," it gave a momentary smile at the words, "Well, our equivalent. Headaches, etc, you know the kind of thing."

The Sylph beamed, a pained expression crossing its face.

"Bye," it mumbled in a deep voice, before being overrun by a multitude of sparks, a white, blurred diamond, which promptly vanished, leaving, for a split second, red sparks.

"I almost wish I didn't know," Vanille said the words in a singsong voice, as always making light of the situation

"She's always trying to protect someone," Fang rolled her eyes, "We don't _need _protecting."  
"Speak for yourself!" Vanille protested, "I want to be protected from whoever wrote those magazines."

"Me too," Fang murmured, reluctantly smiling, "And- wait, why are you still dressed like me?"

"It's fun!" Vanille giggled, jumping a little as she bounced over to Fang, "Besides, if it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me," Vanille nodded smartly after reciting the phrase, losing the effect a little as the sari slumped over her shoulders. She hastily lifted it up with her elbows.

"You didn't say that when I tried to teach you how to use my spear," Fang chuckled at the memory, "Not many people could knock themselves out."

"It's not funny!" Vanille pouted, still grinning, "I had a bruise for a week. And you didn't do much better with a binding rod!"

"I don't know, it ended pretty well," Fang smiled slyly

"You're meant to tie the enemies up, not tie me up!"

"You complaining?" Fang tilted her head. Vanille blushed. "Of course," Fang continued, "If you really want to look like me, you could always try using the spear again."

"Um, no thanks," Vanille shook her head quickly, "I'm going to take this off," she began to hop away.

"Good idea," Fang lifted her eyebrows, pacing across the room

"What're you doing?" Vanille turned to see the black haired Gran Pulsian

"Following you," Fang chuckled

"Nuh-uh," Vanille shook her head, "You're staying out here. You're not getting the clothes dirty."

"I can think of a few solutions to that," Fang nodded slowly, smiling

"Is that all you ever think about?" Vanille sighed, partly exasperated, partly withholding giggles

"Um…" Fang paused, looking half-guilty.

"Aw," Vanille squealed at Fang's face, jumping up and giving her a quick peck on the lips, before hastily withdrawing into a different room and locking the door.

"You distracted me!" Fang protested, laughing at herself

"Works every time," Vanille replied smugly. "I'm too good," she sang

"I'll say," Fang muttered

"I heard that!"

"It was a compliment!"

"I know," Vanille giggled, "Even in the way you meant it."

"And you say _I've _got a dirty mind, that was an innocent remark."

"Nothing's innocent with you," Vanille announced, unlocking the door and hopping out of the room, dressed in her normal attire.

"Thanks," Fang grinned, bending her knees slightly to meet the redhead's long kiss.

"Aren't you meant to be shouting at Lightning?" Vanille queried, steeping back to, reluctantly, break off the kiss

"I'm distracted," Fang smiled

"By what?" Vanille giggled

"By a fur skirt in the room you just came out of," Fang whispered, smirking. Vanille paused, looking back into her changing room, and then down at what she was wearing. Just like Fang said, her fur skirt was lying on the floor.

"Agh," Vanille muttered, annoyed with herself, "That never fastens on properly."

"I'm not complaining," Fang chuckled at the redhead's cute expression.

"Trust you," Vanille giggled, fastening the fur skirt onto her waist. She paused for a moment once it was attached, before satisfying herself that it wouldn't fall off again.

X

Lightning stood up, backing away from the body. She'd done all she could for this investigation: it was like Hope had said, what did she expect, a signed confession? She hadn't learnt anything more. The killer could warp around. He'd taken this victim to somewhere deep, deep underwater. He'd taken Roxy somewhere hot, and taken her back when she was just ash. The killer had taken Sheri a long, long way into the air and let her fall. The victims were linked, the methods were linked but she just didn't know who the actual murderer was.

And truth be told, she didn't want to. She wouldn't admit to it, but she was scared: this unknown assailant was unavoidable. If the killer had managed to go after Hope, before the Sylph had intervened, what could she have done? Even if she was standing right next to him, what could she do? Worse, if the killer got it into his head to go after Serah, what hope did she have?

Well, thank you Sylph, she supposed. If it wasn't for them…

Wait, they'd saved Hope. How? By taking him to Cocoon, or so he'd said. But if they'd taken him all the way to Cocoon, then-

"No," Lightning muttered to herself. She spoke quietly, half-afraid, half-paranoid. It was little more than a suspicion, purely circumstantial, but it was the only thing she could think of that fitted the facts.

"What ya thinking?" a Sylph appeared with a flash just over her shoulder. It spoke in a squeaky tone, but still a slightly lower pitch than a normal Sylph's voice. It had a similar accent to Fang's: an old Pulsian voice.

"Go away," Lightning stiffened, before swatting the Sylph away. According to Hope, whatever one Sylph heard, all Sylph heard. If she voiced her suspicions, then it would end badly.

"Be like that," the tiny fal'Cie sounded annoyed, before spinning over her shoulder, towards the body, and twirling, vanishing in a flash.

After that small display, Lightning was almost certain. The Sylph had almost seemed to be showing off: it moved towards the body, and blatantly warped away. Teleportation.

Just like the killer.

Lightning had just one thought as she confidently strode out of the room. It was the Sylph. The Sylph were the only ones who knew who Lightning and co were, and they were the only ones who could warp around.

The knowledge and the means. The motive? Well, she'd work on that later.

Ring, ring.

Lightning was yanked out of her reverie by the ringing of her phone. Impatiently, she whipped it out, holding it by her ear as she walked past the Guardian Corps officer outside the house.

"Yes?" she muttered curtly into the mobile.

"We need to talk," Fang's voice sounded from the other end of the line. Lightning opened her mouth to respond, but the Gran Pulsian on the other end hung up in an instant.

Lightning sighed. While she didn't have much else to do now, well, nothing that couldn't wait a bit, she was just instinctively worried about seeing Fang. She'd changed over the last twenty years of her life, not just physically. The physical changes were a pain of course; they were part of the reason she wore her hood. Apart from the fact her face was the most recognizable out of the group, she jus didn't want people to look at her, to feel sorry for her just because of her age.

She'd given up so much, but Lightning would do it again and again if need be. She didn't want pity for any reason. She was perfectly happy, she didn't need pity.

Making sure to adjust her hood, concealing her face as best she could, she stepped out into the busy streets.

Hope had gone home, after the Sylph had returned him. He didn't want any part in this. Lightning didn't blame him; she had forgotten how much he'd changed. While she'd been out of crystal with him for about five years (total) in the last centuries, she hadn't spent that much time with him. She forgot that he also would've changed, he wasn't the eager-to-please kid of Gapra Whitewood, nor the growing man who'd worked on the details of the extraction plan with the Sylph. He was just Hope, different.

"Heading anywhere?" a Sylph appeared with a flash behind her

"Go away," she rolled her eyes, trying to swat the little creature. It twirled in the air, avoiding her hand, before perching on her shoulder.

"I just came to offer a lift," it squeaked, "It's me; the one who helped you the last five hundred years. I can take you over to Fang and Vanille now."

"And how would you know that?" Lightning dismissed, trying to march past the fal'Cie

"What one Sylph knows, etc. You met a Sylph in the room, so I know you're here, and I was there when Fang called. Now are you going to do this the hard way, as always, or are you going to accept a lift?"

"I can get there myself," Lightning sighed, partially unwilling to trust the Sylph, but also clinging to her pride.

"Suit yourself," it shrugged, before darting towards her. Its leaves wrapped around her elbow, clinging tightly, before it squeezed its eyes shut. There was a flash of light, and Lightning was engulfed with a bright diamond.

"I said _no_," Lightning muttered, irritated, stumbling forwards too see Fang and Vanille's house.

"Oh well," the Sylph shrugged, "You never did like me."

It flashed again, leaving Lightning alone, standing, looking up at the house. With a shrug and a sigh, the pink haired woman took the few steps needed to enter the door.

"So what did you want?" Lightning called, lifting back her hood after she shut the door; no-one would see her in here, and she needed to get sued to admitting she'd changed.

"That was quick," Vanille said, out of sight, after a second's pause. "

"Just a moment!" shouted Fang. There was a small giggle and a slight scuffle, and half a minute's wait, before the two of them peered around an upstairs wall.

"You knew I was coming," Lightning rolled her eyes, only slightly amused.

"We didn't know you were that quick," Vanille defended, straightening her skirt as she bounced down the stairs.

"I should've guessed," Lightning rolled her eyes for a moment, before turning serious. "The Sylph took me here. That probably means whatever you have to say is pretty major, so spit it out, I'm very busy."

"Very busy, yeah," Fang grunted, "The Sylph told us what you're doing, and that you said that we shouldn't know."

"Damn Sylph," Lightning muttered, scowling for an instant, "We want you to have sanctuary here: that's why we took so long to extract you. The theory was sound decades before we actually started the process, but we wanted everything to be calm, for you. We didn't want to involve you in anything again, Maker knows, you've been through enough."

"Maker knows?" Vanille queried, "What kind of phrase is that?"

"It became popular a few years after the Fall, once the full story was leaked by an unknown familiar face."

"What do you mean by 'full story'?" Fang sighed, "And don't think this is enough to distract us."

"The early government didn't tell everyone every detail about the fal'Cie, the Maker and the sacrifice. It was an unknown source who sent the details to the press, though I can tell you one thing. The unknown man worked for the Cavalry and had a name beginning with 'R'."

"Rygdea!" Fang shouted, triumphant for a brief second, "Hang on, he survived? I thought the Cavalry were turned to Cie'th."

"They were," Lightning nodded, "But there was a skeleton crew that stayed on the Palamecia, just like Hope's dad."

"She's distracting you, Fang," Vanille stage-whispered, content not to take part in the conversation, but to watch Light and Fang duel it out with words, as they had done so often before.

"No kidding," Fang chuckled, "If we're still in danger here, then the ordeal isn't over, no matter what you say.

"Who said you were in danger?" Lightning seemed baffled

"The people who know who you are, are dying. We know who you are. I expected more out of your pretty pink head Lightning."

"The Sylph told you all this?" Lightning replied, irate, "Well, it didn't linger long enough to hear Hope out. It never targets us, only the people we know. Whoever's doing the killings," Lightning muttered the words bitterly, as if she'd already figured it out, "is trying to protect us, in their own way."

"And that makes it ok? Are you just going to lie to us and hope for the best?" Fang was practically shouting by now

"You think you can talk to me about lying? What about last time: you lied to me then, you lied to us all. You were from Pulse."

"I never denied it. But what if Vanille had told you? What then? You were all crazed Pulsephobes back then."

"The truth hurts," Vanille supplied, "But sometimes, you need to say it."

"That's a bit deep for you, isn't it?" Lightning turned, frowning, half-amused at Vanille. "Don't say it, Fang," she interrupted the black haired Gran Pulsian

"It's something Sazh said," Vanille giggled, "It sounds good."

"Next time, just tell us, alright?" Fang offered the compromise to Lightning, calmed by Vanille's intervention

"So I have a choice?" Lightning muttered, "I was trying to help you."

"Next time," a squeaky voice said, as a many faceted glass-like light appeared in the air. A Sylph flashed into existence just next to Lightning's ear. "Don't," it whispered, advising the pink haired woman, before grabbing hold of her and vanishing.


	16. How Time Flies

**Sorry it's been a while since the last update. To make up for it, longer chapter!  
There's a bit of fluff and a bit of fun. Enjoy!**

"Hard to believe it's been a week already," Fang sighed, laying back on her blue side of the bed.

"Yep," Vanille bobbed happily, "And I bet you can't give me one example of something Lightning hasn't told you."

"How am I meant to know if she hasn't told me?" Fang frowned, turning sideways to look at the redhead.

"Exactly!" was the enthusiastic, nodding, response.

"To be fair, she has improved," Fang mused, "She hasn't hit me yet."

"She hasn't hit Snow either,"

"Oh, thanks, are you really comparing me to that behemoth?"

"Maybe," Vanille giggled,

"So you wouldn't mind if we swapped places then? Maybe Snow could come here for a few days."

"No!" Vanille quickly squealed a response, shivering, "You're definitely better!"

"I know that," Fang smiled smugly

"Oh!" Vanille pouted, sarcastically irritated, "Is there anything you can't turn into…that?"

"Is that a challenge?"

"No, no, please,"

"Too bad," Fang chuckled

"Don't say it!"

"Say what? How could I make 'too bad' sound dirty?"

"I don't know," Vanille giggled, leaning over to give Fang a quick peck on the cheek, "But knowing you…"

"I'll take that as a compliment," she chuckled

"Good," Vanille nodded smartly, "Do I get one then?"

"Sure," Fang chuckled again, leaning over to give Vanille a kiss on the cheek, which then turned into a prolonged contact as Vanille turned, making their lips meet.

"I want to see Choco again," Vanille mused, a few seconds later.

"Should I be insulted?" Fang said, amused

"Huh?"

"I kiss you, and you think of a chocobo."

"Nah!" Vanille giggled, "It just means you're cute," the redhead stretched out a hand, patting Fang's head the same way she might on a chocobo, "And yellow," Vanille finished, giggling even more

"How am I yellow?"

"Um…you wear a blue sari, and you like people with red hair, and blue and red mixed is yellow," Vanille nodded smartly, acting serious

"That doesn't mean- wait, blue and red make purple, not yellow."

"Gotcha," Vanille laughed, pouncing onto Fang and tightly hugging her, rolling over the top of the other Gran Pulsian and almost falling off the bed.

"You're enjoying yourself aren't you?" Fang whispered, head bowed as she held the redhead close, her slender frame about to topple over the edge of the bed. Vanille held tightly onto Fang, her face pressed into the elder Gran Pulsian's shoulder. Fang looked down at the red hair below her chin, smiling.

"What gave it away?" Vanille gave a cheery response, voice muffled slightly

"A few things," Fang gave a quiet laugh

"You're enjoying yourself too!" Vanille sounded almost accusing

"What gave it away?"

"A few things," Vanille giggled, mimicking the black haired Gran Pulsian. There was a moment's pause as Vanille adjusted her neck so she was more comfortable, looking down, with her head resting just beside Fang's sari as it looped over her shoulder. "I can see your- " she began, giggling

"Boo!" a Sylph appeared with a flash, spinning on the spot, before looking down at them. "Do you do anything else?" their native Sylph sighed," I swear, _every _time I come in here, you're always-"

"Sylph," Fang looked up, eyes pronouncing a silent warning

"Fine," it rolled its eyes.

For a moment, it hovered there, almost bored. Then there was a glimmer in the air, a shape, just like a diamond, a crystal even, more pronounced than normal, appeared, surrounding the Sylph, before the light drew inwards. In complete silence, the twinkling light vanished into a tiny spark, which soon faded.

"Fang," Vanille murmured, voice still muffled

"Yeah?" the black haired Gran Pulsian looked down at the redhead

"Could you move across? I feel sore…"

"Okay," Fang nodded, shuffling across the bed until she lay on Vanille's side of the bed, and Vanille was on hers. The redhead bounced a couple of times, getting comfortable, before looking over at Fang.

"What happened to Lightning?" Vanille queried

"She's avoiding us," Fang chuckled, "Well, she's avoiding our Sylph."

"Huh? Why? He's cute!"

"He _looks _cute. Remember when it took her away last week?"

"Yeah,"

"It dropped her in a puddle. With that, it earned my respect, whether or not it's a fal'Cie, anything that drops Light in a puddle and lives to tell the tale is a hero in my book."

"Wow…it escaped?"

"They warp around, remember? It told me it just flashed away."

"Well, it's one way to make Light cool off," Vanille giggled, "Is she ok?"

"Of course she is, it'll take more than a puddle to stop her. She hasn't come down with anything either, but whether or not that's good is debateable."

"Aw, cheer up," Vanille smiled, poking Fang's side, "There's a wedding next week, smile then, alright?"

"Of course," Fang chuckled, sighing, "You wouldn't let me get away with it if I didn't."

"No one's that grotty," Vanille tickled Fang's elbow, "Admit it, you're looking forward to it!"

"Maybe," Fang at last admitted, "I'll be nice to see one happy ending."

"Hey, we got a happy ending!" Vanille protested

"Did we?"

"Oh, come on! You're brooding again! Stop brooding! Bad Fang! Enjoy yourself, go on."

"I'll try," the black haired Gran Pulsian chuckled, giving Vanille a quick kiss

"Is that all?" Vanille tilted her head, acting disappointed. With a chuckle, Fang leant across again and gave Vanille a much longer, much stronger kiss.

"That's better," Vanille giggled, a minute or so later, pulling back.

The two of them rolled around a little, so they were facing each other: Vanille resting on Fang's side of the bed, facing Fang, who was outlined by the pale pinkish orange of Vanille's half.

"So," Vanille chirruped, "You looking forward to next week?"

"Didn't I answer that?" Fang chuckled

"Nope, I'm not giving up until you admit it," Vanille crossed her arms, smiling

"You're in for a long wait," Fang crossed her arms in response, mimicking Vanille's actions and smile

"Fang!" Vanille groaned, prolonging the word so it lasted several seconds

"Okay, fine," Fang chuckled, "I'm looking forward to it, can't wait. Now could you stop looking at me like that?"

"Ok," the redhead chirped, giggling, and leaning across to give Fang another quick kiss.

X

Her investigation could be going better, Lighting reflected. She'd done what she could' published a few ads, talked to a few people, asking about the Sylph, without getting the attention of the Sylph. Not as easy as it sounded; the fal'Cie were everywhere it seemed.

In the last week, since she'd started to suspect the Sylph, she'd only had to work on one murder case. The last person who knew who she was. The victim had died of suffocation, despite not being touched. That same day, there'd been reports of a disturbance in a vacuum chamber the other side of Pulse.

The methods of murder were varied enough so that no one else saw a connection between them: only Lightning knew what linked the people, and only she had seen the one method which could achieve every murder. She hadn't dared tell anyone though: if the Sylph heard her, what would they do? They were fal'Cie after all: they could encase her in crystal again, unable to interfere, but still alive. As Hope had theorized: the Sylph seemed to be protecting them. But they could still crystallize her.

Where did that leave her? Working alone, the only one even slightly suspicious of the Sylph, and unable to tell anyone.

Great.

Well, it wasn't all bad news; she'd received a call from someone who'd seen a Sylph behaving strangely. Lightning had put an ad in the newspaper, under the pretence of studying the Sylph. _Any interesting info about the Sylph? Call me._ She'd had one response; a shopkeeper.

Lightning hopped off of her bike, double checking the address with a small scrap of paper. Yep, this was the place she'd been invited to on the phone. A toy shop; hardly the most inspiring setting, but you never know.

Quickly, quietly, she strode the few steps across the path, leaving her bike parked at the side of the road. A few seconds later and she opened the door, entering the shop.

Most of the contents of the shop was just classical gimmicks; a few action figures, some board games, dress-up dolls etc, but at the far end of the shop, visible between two aisles, lay a series of shelves, each containing cuddly toys. Very familiar cuddly toys: Lightning, Snow, Hope, Vanille, Fang, Dajh, Serah, Lebreau, Maqui, Yuj, Gadot, Cid, Rygdea, Dysley, Barthendelus, Jihl, Yaag… Almost everyone imaginable from the events of so long ago.

"Hello?" Lightning turned, scratching behind her ear with one hand, while simultaneously pushing her hood further forwards, "I'm Freya, we spoke on the phone."

"Ah, right," the shopkeeper, just beside the door, nodded, "No customers right now," she shrugged, "What did you want?"

"You mentioned the Sylph behaving oddly?" Lightning/Freya eventually spoke, after satisfying herself no Sylph were listening in.

"Well, one Sylph at least," the shopkeeper, a tall brunette, with hair bundled into one long ponytail halfway down her back. She wore a white, buttoned-up top, with a blackish navy jacket over her arms and the very edges of her upper body.

"How was it 'behaving oddly'?" Lightning prompted.

"Right, of course. For one thing, it was in this shop; I don't get many Sylph customers. Well, I don't get many human customers, but you know what I mean: I never heard of a Sylph going shopping."

"What did it buy?" Lightning asked, suddenly alert. She hadn't expected much of a lead here, but she might have ended up getting one

"Something," the shopkeeper answered after a pause, "It was a week ago, I can't remember. It was one of those though," she pointed to the back of the shop, the bales of cuddly toys.

"A Sylph who buys teddies," Lightning spoke the words slowly. She'd meant to sound as if she was thinking, rather than being sceptical, but it came out the latter way

"I'm not a liar," the shopkeeper defended herself, "It sounds odd, sure, but it happened!"

"Thank you," Lightning nodded, "I'll remember. Do you mind if I take a picture of the toys, as a note?"

"Um, sure, why not?" the shopkeeper shrugged,

Lightning nodded her thanks again, before taking her phone out of her pocket. She turned around, facing the shelves stuffed full of toys. As speedily as she could, she lifted her phone, hitting a button on it and, with a click, taking a photo. Now she had an image saved of every possible toy that the Sylph could have bought.

Two question burned in her mind as she turned to leave the shop: Which toy? And why?

X

"Tomorrow!" Vanille squealed, "The wedding's tomorrow!" Vanille jumped up and down, waking Fang.

"Calm down," the black haired Gran Pulsian chuckled.

"I can't!" Vanille squealed, grabbing Fang's hand and pulling the elder Gran Pulsian out of bed, "Come on!" the redhead was hopping up and down, already getting out of her nightclothes, and pulling on her Pulse-based clothes (The ones Yuj had designed based on an original idea).

"You're excited," Fang commented, amused, getting changed herself.

"Of course!" Vanille jumped as she finished the phrase, finishing getting changed. "Hurry up!"

"Sheesh, alright," Fang chuckled, finishing tying on her drape.

"Yay!" Vanille hopped as Fang finished getting dressed, "come on!" the redhead pulled Fang out of their bedroom.

"A bit early for anything, isn't it?" Fang murmured, frowning

"Nah, you're just lazy," Vanille giggled, "It's nearly midday!"

"Midday?" Fang staggered as she was pulled towards the door,

"It's eleven actually," Vanille shrugged, running out the front door, "But I did say 'nearly',"

"We've only got to get to Serah's at twelve."

"Yeah, but I want to buy something first."

With that, the redhead caught up to Lightning, who was waiting, still in her hood, at the edge of their garden. She was sitting on the driver's seat of a very pale bike: like the velocycles the Sanctum had once used, only a pristine white, and smoother, cleaner.

"Vanille said you needed a lift?" the hooded lady grunted, watching as the duo hopped onto the bike behind her.

"Yep," Vanille grinned, "I told you where to go."

"This had better not take too long," Lightning said, starting to turn the bike, "The bridal shower's in an hour."

"It won't," Vanille bobbed happily.

"Good," Lightning nodded, before hitting a button, pulling a lever, or whatever controlled the bike. With that, the velocycle silently shot down, into the town, through the town, around a few tight corners before, after a few minutes, stopping just outside a shop.

"I'm buying you two helmets sometime," Lightning muttered to herself, "Now get whatever you wanted, we've got half an hour to get back to Serah's, and twenty minutes to set everything up before she gets home."

"Sure thing," Vanille hopped off the bike.

She ran into a nearby shop, She was inside it for a few minutes, before running out, clutching a bag.

"We can go now," she chirruped, sitting between Fang and Lightning.

"Good," Lightning muttered, pulling one of the velocycle controls.

They shot across winding roads, eventually shooting out of the city into a more verdant area, green fields, like the old Gran Pulse. A few creatures were running around, and even Adamantoises were slowly pacing across the empty green.

The velocycle suddenly came to a sliding stop. Vanille tore her eyes away from the scenery, to catch a glimpse of a wall made of Sylph blocking the road.

"What do you want?" Lightning stood up, angrily walking up to the 'fal'Cie'. She unclipped her Blazefire Saber from the side of her velocycle.

"Nothing bad," the Sylph span on the spot, "We've got a gift."

"A gift?" Lightning was decidedly unimpressed. As she watched, all but one of the Sylph flashed away, leaving the one who'd spoken; the one who lived with Fang and Vanille.

"Of course," the Sylph's voice seemed to deepen somewhat. It hovered over to Lightning, holding one leaf out. Over the leaf was hung a thin silver chain, with a glimmering silver pendant at the base; the pendant had a mirror like image of a cat carved onto it.

Lightning froze before she could reply.

"It's our gift," Sylph shrugged, "You helped us all, during the Fall, we thought we'd return the favour. Before you ask, yes, it does belong to them," the Sylph dropped the pendant into Lightning's hand. "They're in the same place," the Sylph concluded, before vanishing in another diamond flash.

Somewhat shaken, Lightning moved back to the bike, attaching her sword to the side, and looping the pendant around her wrist before, once more, driving off.

About ten minutes later, the bike drew to a halt, just outside Serah's house.

"Twenty minutes until she gets back," Lightning informed the duo, "We've got a new venue for the party, so don't set any of that stuff up."

"Huh?" Vanille exclaimed, "I thought-"

"There's still going to be a party," Lightning sighed, chuckling as Vanille's face lit up, "It's just going to be somewhere else."

"Got it," Fang nodded, running into the house, followed by Lightning and Vanille, the redhead bringing her carrier bag.

Twenty minutes later, Serah stepped in through the door, back from a party with Sai's, her public identity's, friends. She stepped into her house, frowning as she heard a crinkling noise. Frowning, she looked down, to see a sheet of plastic covering the floor.

At that instant, she felt a rain of warmish water lightly cascade over her. Confused, she looked back up, to see Vanille grinning, peering out of a doorway, holding a showerhead trailing from up the stairs.

"Bridal shower!" Vanille grinned, giggling. Serah's eyes widened, initially understanding, then somewhat scared as she saw Fang enter the hall.

"Claire," Serah called, continuing once her sister entered sight, "I told you I didn't want a big party this time, I did all I wanted last time."

"Don't look at me," Lightning lifted her hands, a smile touching her face, "Vanille arranged this one."

"And don't worry about me," Fang chuckled, "They convinced me to tone my presents down. A _little_."

"Presents!" Vanille chimed, tossing a towel to Serah, to dry off her hair, and darting back into a room, in one fluid movement. A few seconds later, Serah followed.

As Serah walked into the room, she gasped; strung up from the windows, the lights, whatever they could get their hands on, were an assortment of wrapped up gifts. Wrapped up tubes held up by string, crumpled parcels kept aloft by yet more string, each parcel kept off the floor, tied to the ceiling or the walls, whatever nooks and crannies were available.

"It's a Gran Pulsian tradition," Fang whispered, as Serah looked over the few dozen gifts, "We always gave presents like you, but we let them fly," to make her point, Fang poked one of the gifts, watching it swing back and forth.

"Thanks," Serah gave a shy smile to the two Gran Pulsians.

"Don't mention it!" Vanille cried, hopping around to push Serah into the room, "Go on, open them!"

Half an hour passed as Serah, amused, opened the assortment of gifts from Fang and Vanille. By the end of it, she had received a variety of landscape paintings, some coats, jumpers, a couple of things she didn't want to guess the purpose of (from Fang), and a few artist-impression images of herself and Snow.

"Thank you," Serah bowed her head for a moment, smiling to Fang and Vanille.

"That's not all," Vanille giggled running out the door. A few seconds later, she ran back into the room, clutching a carrier bag, which she quickly gave to Serah.

"She bought this one today," Fang supplied.

Serah frowned, taking the bag. Curious, she opened it, peering in. She giggled. "Thanks Vanille," she eventually said.

Serah reached into the bag, taking out two cuddly dolls. She laughed, putting both dolls next to each other on the sofa: they were just like Tooth and Van, only they depicted Snow and Serah.

"I really appreciate this," Serah smiled, laughing a little at the cute cuddly Snow.

"Yay," Vanille hopped on the spot, "Can we do the rest now?" the redhead turned to Lightning

"The _rest_?" Serah interjected, "You promised Claire! Nothing major."

"Relax," Lightning hastily added, "This bit should be worth it."

"Huh?" Serah looked around, from person to person

"It'd your bachelorette party!" Vanille squealed, "You're not missing out on a party with me here!"

"Vanille…" Serah sighed

"Give up," Fang interjected, "Trust me, you can't discourage her. Believe me, I've tried."

"Hey, you're worse!" Vanille protested, turning to face the black haired Gran Pulsian.

"If I can speak," Lightning managed to speak up before Fang retorted, "This might actually be a party you'd want to attend.

"You too?" Serah sighed, "What about Alexi?"

"Sazh is looking after her," Lightning shrugged, "Besides, Hope, Snow and Dajh are out at Snow's party, why shouldn't you be?"

"I'm not-" Serah began, before sighing, realizing she had no more defences, "Alright, just this once."

"Yay!" Vanille hopped

"Glad to hear it," Lightning smiled, "I've been informed that there's a specific place we have to go to."

"Do I have to say it again?" Serah rolled her eyes, laughing, "The last pre-wedding party was more than enough."

"You haven't had a Gran Pulsian party," Fang smirked, "We weren't told about the change-of-scene either."

"The Sylph get credit for this," Lightning spoke the word almost like a curse.

"We're driving somewhere else?" Vanille wilted somewhat

"It's not too long a journey," Lightning replied, already on the way out the door.

The elder Farron sister was soon followed by the others, before sitting on her velocycle; Lightning at the front, Serah behind her, Vanille behind her, and Fang at the back.

The bike rocketed down the roads, entering and leaving the city after about half an hour, with each person clinging tightly onto the person in front of them (with Fang grinning broadly). A few minutes later, the velocycle drew to a halt next to a large lake, with a scattering of settlement around it.

Lightning leapt to the side, leaving the velocycle parked next to a somewhat dilapidated building.

"You shouldn't have," Serah commented, amused, looking at the worn-down building.

"This is one time I'm going to trust the Sylph," Lightning replied, letting the silver pendant drop from within her clenched fist, before scooping it up again, approaching the door. Still with her hood over her head, despite the lack of anyone around, she peered through the door. The people on the outside heard a muffled few lines of speech, before she stepped out.

"Coming in?" she smiled, appearing almost youthful again, before she darted through the door, into the faded building.

"Any idea what this is?" Serah turned to the two Gran Pulsians

"Not me," Fang shrugged

"Fine," Lightning's sister sighed, resigned, half-afraid of what was in store. Mute, she walked hesitantly over to the door of the establishment, hand touching the doorknob.

Curiosity overpowering her weariness, she pushed on the door.

Inside was a bar, in surprisingly good condition considering the state of the outside. Sleek wooden chairs, a pale, smooth bar-top, with streamers hung across the walls, and a banner drawn across the opposite wall, proudly declaring 'SERAH FARRON'S BACHELORETTE PARTY!' Just below that, in small, elegant handwriting, someone had cheekily added 'No. 2'.

In the middle of the streamers and fairy lights, excessive decoration by anyone's standards, stood two people. One was a tallish woman with black hair, while the other was a man with unmistakable, long, blue hair.

"Lebreau? Yuj?" Serah eventually squeaked the words out.

"Good to see ya Serah," Lebreau smiled

"How long has it been?" Yuj tilted his head, "Two years?"

"Try four hundred," Serah replied, stuttering somewhat.

"The Sylph helped us," Lebreau supplied, "Once we'd done all we had to, we wanted to join you guys. We woke up yesterday; the Sylph explained most things, including the fact you're getting married to Snow a second time."

"Before we get onto the banter," Lightning interjected, "Where are the rest of you?"

"Right," Yuj nodded, "Gadot and Maqui have gone out to find Snow. I know what goes on at these parties, so it's a good idea for them to, well, not be here."

"We're the only ones," Lebreau murmured, sullen for a moment, before brightening up, "Hey, isn't this meant to be a party? Let's get started!"


	17. The Happiest Day

**Hey guys! New chapter!  
This chapter was pretty fun to write. a fair bit of fluff which is, *gasp* not just Fanille! Well, Serah and Snow are getting married! What do you expect?  
****There is Fanille though, rest assured.  
That reminds me, Asura (Hope's girlfriend) isn't going to be a major character in this story, but if you're interested in her, let me know. She's a main character in another of my stories. Shameless advertising over.  
As always, review p****lease! It means a lot. **

"Hey, Yuj?" Serah tilted her head, frowning. "If Gadot and Maqui are with Snow, why are you here?"

"Simple," the blue haired youth flashed a smile, "I'm the stripper."

Serah blanched.

"I'm kidding," Yuj hastily amended, "I'm just the waiter."

"What drinks will you have then?" Lebreau called across the room, already on the opposite side of the bar, "The Sylph have apparently stocked this place up. I know where the daiquiris are but it might take me a bit longer to find anything else."

"I'll just have water, thanks," Serah swayed a little, mostly from the surprise, until she sat on a stool next to the main bar.

"Water?" Lebreau muttered, "This is meant to be a party, enjoy yourself!"

"I will," Serah sighed, "But I don't want a hangover on the night before my wedding."

"Fine," Lebreau made a face, "one 'water' coming up."

The bartender turned, sidestepping rapidly along the back wall, past various clear canisters of liquid. There was an impressive array of colours; a few vivid reds, pale and dark greens, a couple of worrying yellows, sky-blue, and a glass machine filled with a perfect white. Lebreau stopped moving a few metres away, in front of a box filled with a clear liquid. In a fluid movement, she picked up a glass from a cupboard below the bar, turned, and placed the glass below a nozzle. Satisfied, she pressed the tap, a thin stream of clear liquid falling and filling the glass.

A few seconds later, Lebreau was back in front of Serah, with a glass full of the clear liquid.

"Here you go," she smiled, dropping the glass onto the bar in front of Serah.

"Thanks," Serah smiled up at the bartender, lifting the glass and sipping its contents. A second later, the Farron sister screwed up her face, putting the glass down, barely drinking any. "Lebreau," Serah muttered eventually, voice somewhat hoarse, "That's not water."

"Huh?" the bartender frowned, sipping the glass herself, "Hm, you're right, vodka. Sorry. I told you I didn't know where everything was."

The bartender sighed, putting the glass, still mostly full, between two of the drink-boxes. Once again, Lebreau darted sideways, looking at all the drinks. Once she reached her previous attempt, she took out a marker pen, clearly labelling the glass as 'vodka', before moving on. A few canisters on, there was another box of clear liquid. Cautious this time, Lebreau stuck a finger a centimetre or so below the tap and, with the other hand, pressed it on for a brief second. Next, she sucked on her wet finger, tasting the liquid.

"Water," she nodded, turning to wash her hands in a sink, before filling a glass of the real water.

"You're sure this time?" Serah commented, slightly cheeky, as Lebreau handed her the most recent glass. When there was no reply, Serah tentatively took a sip of the glass. "Thanks Lebreau,"" she smiled up at the bartender.

At the other end of the room, Fang and Vanille sat next to each other, by a table. They watched the brief exchange between Serah and Lebreau, before watching Lightning sit next to her sister, ordering some unidentifiable drink of her own.

"I wish I'd had a chance to really meet NORA," Fang mused, remembering how Snow had described them

"They were nice," Vanille giggled, "They helped at Hanging Edge."

"So I heard," Fang replied, "I was with the Cavalry, remember? We heard a lot about the Purge."

"Right," Vanille murmured, "Want a drink?" the redhead suddenly chirruped

"Nah," Fang shook her head, "I don't know many Cocoon drinks."

"Well try one!" Vanille giggled. "Yuj!" she called, "Can I have the pink drink?"

"The what?" the blue haired man frowned at her order

"The pink one," Vanille repeated, cheerful, pointing at one of the drink canisters which, sure enough, contained a worryingly bright pink liquid.

"You sure?" Yuj said, laughing himself, before looking at Fang, "Any for you?"

"Not thirsty," Fang shrugged.

"Be like that," Yuj retorted, grinning, "Lebreau!" he called, pacing over to the bar.

Under the table, Vanille poked at Fang's thigh, trying to get the elder Gran Pulsian to cheer up. Fang countered by grabbing the redhead's hand. Vanille giggled, trying to pull her hand back, before Fang moved her other hand across, grabbing Vanille's.

"No fair!" the redhead squealed

"You were expecting something else from me?" Fang's eyes twinkled, pulling Vanille's hand closer.

Yuj coughed, making the two Gran Pulsians look back up.

"One 'pink one'," Yuj chuckled, putting a glass full of an odd, vivid pink drink down on the table in front of Vanille.

"Ooh!" the redhead's attention snapped away from Fang's ministrations, as she rested her chin on the table, leaning closer to the borderline opaque liquid.

Vanille peered closer, giggling at her distorted reflection in the glass. She prodded it lightly, watching ripples pass through the drink. She giggled, lifting it, partly to gauge the weight, and partly so she could lean forwards and sip from the cup.

A few seconds later, she drew back, smiling.

"Yummy!" she announced, "I like berries."

"Berries huh?" Yuj sat down on the opposite side of the table, "We don't know what most of the drinks here actually are, the Sylph gave us all of them."

"Great," Fang rolled her eyes, "How many are poisonous?"

"Probably the yellow one," the youth pointed towards a sickly canister, "I doubt anyone's going to risk drinking from that one." He paused, "Is that nice?" he directed the question at Vanille.

"Yep!" the redhead smiled, again sipping from the glass,

"Nice to know," Yuj nodded, surveying them, "By the way, I see you like my dresses," he gestured to what the two Gran Pulsians were wearing.

"Of course!" Vanille replied, perkily as always, "Where'd you get the idea? It's just like the old kind."

"Thanks," Yuj nodded, "The Sylph really helped me, they knew a lot about the fashion back then."

Vanille and Fang shared a significant look, silently reminding each other of the erratic knowledge of the Sylph, and their Sylph's slip about not being fal'Cie.

"Do they match the trends?" Yuj asked, suddenly concerned

"Yep," Vanille nodded, hair flapping as she did so

"Thanks," the blue haired man chuckled at the redhead's enthusiasm, before looking at Fang, "Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

"Do I have a choice?" the Gran Pulsian laughed a little to herself, "Fine, I'll have what Vanille's having."

"Good choice," Vanille giggled, drinking a bit more of the pink liquid.

Yuj paced over to the bar, filling a glass with the drink, discussing something with Lebreau as he waited.

"When's it tomorrow?" Vanille squealed

"You really like weddings, huh?" Fang commented

"Of course! Dresses, dancing, and food, what's not to like?"

"Not being the centre of attention," Fang smirked

"Trust you," Vanille giggled, "You could always get married sometime, dresses, dancing, food, _and _everyone would be looking at you."

"Sounds fun," Fang chuckled, "But can you really see me in a wedding dress?"

"It's either a wedding dress, or nothing," Vanille wagged a finger

"Well…" Fang let the sentence hang suggestively. Vanille sighed, amused and frustrated. "besides," Fang muttered, "You asking?"

"Um," Vanille stuttered, "I, ah-"

"You're adorable when you're flustered," Fang chuckled planting a light kiss on the redhead's forehead.

"Zeio nut," Yuj announced, dropping the glass with an audible clink next to Fang

"What?" Fang pronounced, staccato, looking up at Yuj

"I asked Lebreau," the NORA member replied, "She tasted it. Says it's Zeio nut cocktail."

"Just what I always wanted to know," Fang rolled her eyes, tentatively sipping the drink. "You're right Vanille, it is nice."

"Told you!" the redhead kicked back on the chair, laughing, hyperactive as always (and quite possibly a little drunk).

"Just be glad Sazh isn't here," Yuj sat down again by their table, "Or Dajh for that matter."

"Huh? Why?" Vanille frowned

"Because Choco would be here then."

"Why's that bad? Chocobos are cute."

"But they love Zeio nuts," Yuj chuckled "There used to be a cartoon about that come to think of it, when a chocobo ate a Zeio nut it turned golden and started running everywhere. A kiddie show," he paused, "I think Snow still watches it."

"I can see what the chocobos mean," Vanille giggled yet again, drinking more so that over half the cup was empty.

"Hey! This is a party guys!" Lebreau shouted from behind the bar, hitting a stereo she'd retrieved from a drawer. It burst into life, raucous music blasting out of it.

"What ever happened to nothing major?" Serah sighed, still smiling, putting her head in her hands.

X

Gadot stood next to a suited Snow, at the end of a long, wide, crimson carpeted stretch of floor. Either side of the carpet were several sleek benches, with several people sat across the ones near the front. In the closest row sat Lebreau, Yuj, and Maqui. Just behind them, Sazh, Dajh, Vanille and Fang sat, watching as Snow stood, looking distinctly uncomfortable in a suit, at the front. Also in the second row, behind Hope, was a woman with blackish hair, with orange patches along the back, who'd earlier been identified as Asura, Hope's girlfriend.

A striking piece of organ music started up, celebratory notes resounding. Vanille craned her neck to see the mildly comical sight of a Sylph, their Sylph, pressing organ keys down with the leaf-like appendages it had.

As a few more notes were played, Snow grinned broadly, looking straight down the carpeted aisle. Walking slowly, tense, nervous, excited, Serah moved towards him, each step in time with the music. Lightning moved alongside her, guiding her as Serah peered through a white veil, one which completely concealed her face.

Vanille couldn't quite suppress a squeal of enjoyment as the two Farron sisters passed them.

Serah was dressed in white, as tradition dictated, a fairly tight smooth, silky fabric across the top half, with a lacy lower skirt. A thin, translucent, almost mystical veil hung from her pink hair.

As the sisters gracefully reached the altar, Lightning lifted Serah's hand, placing it in Snow's, before stepping back and sitting beside Lebreau.

To Fang's surprise, Hope stood up at the minister's spot, dressed in a suit, smart, silver hair somewhat flattened.

"Hope's a minister?" Fang whispered, partly surprised, to Vanille, as Hope began to recite the normal text.

"Shush!" Vanille squealed, grinning, back, "I'm enjoying this!"

"I prefer the bit just after," Fang chuckled, quietly, "The _night _after, that is."

Vanille giggled in response, eyes still fixed on the couple at the front.

Snow gently lifted Serah's veil, letting it fall back, exposing her pale, flawless face.

"Do you, Snow Villiers, take Serah Farron to be your lawfully wedded wife, again?" Hope pronounced the words clearly.

"Say it properly," Snow muttered, barely audible, to Hope, before turning back to Serah and speaking loudly: "I do."

"And do you, Serah Farron, take Snow Villiers to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Serah spoke the words for the second time in her life, to the same man, smiling.

Gadot hastily passed the rings over to Snow, who in turn gave one to Serah.

A few silent, solemn moments passed as Snow gently slipped the golden ring, with a simple, yet immeasurably beautiful diamond set in the top, over Serah's finger. Serah smiled, holding a similar theme and, after a moment's struggle, slipping it onto Snow's finger.

"With this ring, I thee wed," the two spoke the words in unison.

Hope looked at their now joined hand, smiling himself. "I now pronounce you man and wife," he announced to the small group of attendees, who had enough happiness in each of them to fill the hall.

"You may kiss the bride. As if I could stop you," Hope grinned, stepping back.

Snow and Serah Villiers stepped closer to each other, quietly whispering, filled with joy.

"Serah, I-" Snow began

"Don't," Serah whispered, "You don't have to say a word."

"But, you know-"

"Just kiss her!" Vanille squeaked from the second row, tension proving too much for the redhead.

Serah shot a gratefully look at the Gran Pulsian, before turning to meet Snow's lips, a strong, kind, ecstatic, truthful, meaningful kiss. The seconds ticked by, immense happiness, tranquillity. The calm before the storm.

X

"To the happy couple!" Lightning toasted, raising a glass from just off the centre of the table. They were at Lebreau's new bar, for the wedding reception.

NORA cheered, raising their glasses along with everyone else. Most had champagne of some sort. Sazh and Dajh sat on the left of the table, next to Yuj and Lebreau. Lightning, Serah, Snow and Gadot made up the central four, then Vanille, Fang, Hope and Maqui sat along the right of the long table.

Serah nudged Snow, muttering something quietly to him. Her husband nodded, turning to elbow Gadot, who turned, frowning. A few seconds later, the muscled NORA member stood up.

"Apparently I've got to make a speech," Gadot announced, flicking his glass, producing a dull sound that failed to catch anyone's attention. His voice however, did, and everyone there looked up at him.

"No one told me that yesterday," Gadot continued, "So give me another second."

"Use my notes!" Hope called, passing a scrap of paper along the table, "I was going to be best man until you showed up," Hope acted sarcastically annoyed

"You were going to be best man and minister?" Fang muttered to Hope, as Gadot sat down, skimming through the notes.

"Nah," Hope shrugged, "We did have a different minister, but you know."

"Ah, right," Fang nodded, remembering the murder cases; everyone who knew who they were. No wonder there weren't many people there.

"I see you liked my present," Hope tried to keep the conversation going as Gadot read through his notes. The silver haired by pointed at the brooch fastened to Fang's dress-her smart dress, which Yuj had made.

"Gran Pulsians like jewellery," Vanille leant forward, joining in, "Can't you tell?" she giggled, shaking her arm and making her many bracelets jingle.

"You've got yours on too," Hope noted, pointing to one of the bracelets.

"Of course," the redhead giggled, "It's good."

"I'll tell her you said that," Hope smiled

"Who?"

"Asura, she's the one who made them."

"Where is she anyway?" Vanille frowned, "I thought I saw her at the service."

"Right, she was there, but she started feeling really ill before the reception. She wanted to be here, but she just couldn't." Hope paused, as if remembering something, "It's quite a long story actually."

Before they could continue the conversation, Gadot stood up, banging his glass onto the table to get everyone's attention.

"It's my speech now," he began. "Apparently it's my job to tell witty stories about Snow. This is his second time getting married, apparently he liked it so much the first time he decided to do it again." Gadot paused to look down at the notes, before turning up and speaking half-disbelievingly, "He was also once nearly killed by a fourteen year old boy, good on ya Hope," he chuckled, "Some hero."

Gadot frowned, quickly mentally reading through the last few lines on the paper.

"And now for the soppy stuff," Gadot announced, "There are two very important people here, and none of this would be possible without them, and as the evening progresses, I hope we're going to spend much more time talking with them." Gadot lifted his glass, "So everyone, I hope you'll join me in toasting; the bar staff!"

This latest quip earned a chuckle from everyone, as well as a whoop from Lebreau and Yuj.

"Seriously though," Gadot lifted his glass again, once the chuckles had died down, "To the Villiers!"

"To the Villiers!" everyone echoed.

A few minutes later, the table was pushed back up against the wall, the chairs were loosed, available to sit on, though up against the wall, and Lebreau had loosed a stereo and was playing music, in the absence of a real band, as Sazh, Dajh, Hope, Lightning, Serah, Snow, Gadot, Yuj, Maqui, Lebreau, Fang and Vanille danced in the centre of the room.

As the music slowed, Fang pulled Vanille closer, rocking together, in time to the melodic strokes of the music.

"Enjoying yourself?" Fang whispered, mouth just by the redhead's ear.

"Of course," Vanille giggled. "Dresses, food and dancing."

"Which is your favourite?"

"Dancing of course," Vanille pressed herself closer to Fang, smiling, "I spend more time with you."

"Thanks," Fang murmured softly, gently kissing Vanille's cheek, "I still wish more eyes were on me."

"You always want more eyes on you,"

"Do you blame me?" Fang chuckled, "Well, there's one way I could manage it."

"Keep your dress _on_, okay?" Vanille chirped, kissing Fang's neck

"Not what I was thinking."

"That's hard to believe."

"I was thinking more about being the centre of attention myself."

"You always want to be," Vanille giggled, "Besides, you asking?"

"Maybe," Fang whispered, breathless herself

"Huh?" Vanille squeaked, surprised,

"You heard," Fang whispered amused. "So, what'd you say?"

Before the redhead could reply, there was a cry of 'bouquet' from NORA.

Lebreau, Lightning (reluctantly), Vanille and Fang gathered around behind Serah, who flung the bouquet of flowers up and backwards through the air, spiralling gracefully, straight into Vanille's waiting hands.

"Yes!" she squealed, cheerful and yet unusually serious, throwing herself into Fang's arms.

X

Serah, still in her wedding dress, stood outside, next to Snow. She embraced her sister for a few moments.

"Bye," Serah Villiers smiled sadly, stepping away.

"Bye," Lightning, who'd somehow found the time to change into her normal soldier attire, nodded, swallowing, stepping away from her sister. "You keep her safe, you hear, Snow?"

"Calm down sis," Snow chuckled, "It's just a honeymoon. Nothing dangerous," Snow eyed his sister-in-law, "Not that you'd know the meaning of the words. Are you really carrying your sword with you?"

Lightning grunted, covering her Blazefire Saber with her red cape.

"Bye Fang, Vanille," Serah spoke softly, "We meet you, and now we're going again."

"Seems like it," Fang said, "Bye."

"Bye," Vanille nodded, looking down. "Where are you guys going anyway?"

"Bodhum," Snow replied, linking arms with his wife. "Well, New Bodhum, here on Pulse."

"I don't see a car," Lightning frowned

"That's because we're not taking a car," Snow replied, chuckling.

"Then how…" Lightning frowned.

Fang and Vanille's native Sylph hovered out of the bar, shaking slightly. It landed on the wedded couples' shoulders.

"Like this," Serah giggled a little, as the Sylph started to shine.

"No!" Lightning shouted, a reaction that appeared somewhat extreme to anyone who wasn't as suspicious as her. Too late. The married couple vanished in a flash, along with their familiar Sylph.

Lightning closed her eyes, scowling, before stomping away.

"Did you really mean what you said in there?" Fang spoke softly to Vanille

"Of course," Vanille giggled, "I want to see you in white!"

Before the elder Gran Pulsian could retort, the Sylph reappeared with a glittering sparkle.

"You!" Lightning shouted, moving up to it, causing the Sylph to retreat a step, "They'd better be…"

Her words died on her lips as she saw the air.

"No," Hope whispered, quiet, mute.

The diamond like twinkle of the Sylph was still suspended in the air, glittering, floating up. As the group looked around, they saw similar twinkles in the air, tiny lights forming and ascending.

"Like before," Lightning murmured, "Like Eden, like the Maker…"

She didn't want to finish that thought. She could just stand and stare at the specks of light rising, shimmering.


	18. The Worst Day

**Author's Note: please don't hate me.**

A trio of Sylph barrelled past, hyperactive, energized by something.

"She is coming!" a multitude of squeaks echoed on the wind, as flocks of the 'fal'Cie' whirled chaotic patterns in the shining air. They seemed to be more coordinated than before, moving in a constant, streamlined pattern, as if they were one entity. It reminded Hope of their grace on Cocoon.

Another swarm of Sylph appeared, all flashing into existence from tiny sparks, in a smooth line, dozens, maybe hundreds, all moving in a long, thin, circular line. The tunnel of Sylph whirled upwards, towards the distant, watchful presence of Cocoon, still very much supported, up against the afternoon sky. The Sylph vanished a few metres from their starting point, each reappearing to travel along a parallel path, just a metre away from their previous path. The Sylph flew on, in the looping path, five lines in all, before beginning the repetitive journey again.

"No," a deeper voice groaned.

The group tore their eyes away from the Sylph spectacle, to see another Sylph. It was their native Sylph; the one who had spent so long helping them, branding them, turning them to crystal, awaking them, for so many years. The one who supposedly lived with Fang and Vanille, though it rarely spent any time there. The native Sylph. It was on the ground, supporting itself with its leaves.

"No," it groaned, utilizing a deeper voice, afraid, some might even say in pain. "No, I won't…"

"What is it?" Hope crouched beside the groaning figure of the Sylph, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," it suddenly squeezed, straightening yet swaying, using a higher pitched voice, "She is stirring, should we not rejoice?"

"Huh?" Hope stumbled a little at the words

"I-" it stuttered, before returning to its deep voice, "No!" it shouted the word, the force of the cry seemingly pushing Hope back, "Never again. This is my- my-"

The Sylph spiralled away, clutching its head, shaking. As it stumbled, walking somehow, along the ground, it shimmered, sometimes flashing, warping centimetres at a time, out of control.

"Could someone please tell me what's going on?" Dajh eventually spoke up, frowning

"The same as Eden," Lightning muttered curtly, looking around at the spectacular Sylph display, more weighing on her mind than on the minds of the others.

"Which is?" Dajh asked again, "I was crystal then, remember?"

"Right," Hope mumbled, still distracted by the quivering native Sylph on the ground, "It happened in Eden. It means the Maker is coming."

"The Maker?" Dajh paused, "I don't see Ragnarok anywhere."

"It's not just Ragnarok," Sazh answered his son, "Any amount of death large enough, that'll call it here."

"Her," they heard a squeak announce. Dajh turned, to see the Sylph getting to its 'feet', "Her, not 'it'." It mumbled

"Who's going to die?" Dajh looked around, fearful

"No one," the Sylph muttered through gritted teeth.

"But you said-"

"That's what _they _said," the Sylph spoke in its deeper, almost human, voice, "When our earthly vessels meet their end, the souls they housed must leave this world."

"What's a data fragment got to do with this?" Dajh frowned, stepping back as an eerily large ball of the light flew upwards in front of him

"Everything," the Sylph muttered, struggling and falling flat onto the floor. After a moment, it pushed itself up. "Would the path of their migration not be the same one as our departed gods? Must they not pass through the same doorway the divine employed to reach that place that lies beyond? If this is the case…" it spluttered, falling again onto the floor, wheezing, exhausted from whatever battle it was fighting.

"Ah," Fang muttered to herself, "Should a great many lives at once be cut short, a flood of souls would surge through the portal."

"Exactly," the Sylph murmured, "The door would be thrown wide. She would emerge."

"I hate to sound slow, but what are you guys talking about?" Dajh interjected

"She has a foot in the door," the Sylph spoke in its deep voice, stumbling up, resting one leaf on Hope's ankle, keeping itself up, "Since the deaths last time, she is closer, she wants to live again, she hears the cries. It takes less to call her, so much less."

"But _what _is calling the Maker?" Dajh retorted, exasperated.

The Sylph took an unaided step forward, still not hovering, still using a deeper voice. However, instead of using that voice, it just looked up, glaring pointedly at one specific person.

"Oh come on," Lightning muttered, meeting the Sylph's gaze

"It's true," the Sylph's deep voice murmured, "Say I had harmed Serah, what then?"

"What's this got to do with anything?"

"You were angry. Furious. Suspicion giving way to rage. And I notice you have your blade with you now." To make its point, the Sylph leapt, jumping on the spot, up past Lightning's waistline, somehow amassing enough force with its weakened body to knock the Blazefire Saber up, out of its sheath, sending it several metres into the air.

In a graceful motion, the Sylph wrapped a leaf around the hilt of the blade, before falling, landing after its impressive jump, holding the sword with a leaf, sideways, in front of it.

"Can you honestly tell me that you would have left a single Sylph alive if I did not vow, as I am this moment, that your sister and her husband are safe, alive and happy, in New Bodhum?" it concluded, offering the blade back to Lightning.

The woman snatched the weapon from the 'fal'Cie', silent.

"Why are there still lights?" Hope asked, lifting a hand through one of the lights, producing a twinkling around

"She is conscious now," the Sylph replied, "She is making a physical effort now, She wants to come through."

The Sylph seemed about to say something else, before it fell again onto the ground, writhing again, as the lights around them seemed to brighten.

"Close," the word was spoken in unison by seemingly every Sylph on the whole of Gran Pulse.

"What's happening to the Sylph?" Dajh stepped back, looking around at the identical movements of each of the 'fal'Cie'

"It is happening to all fal'Cie," the answer this time came from the pillars of Sylph, "She is close. Her very presence beckons to us."

"Well, that was clear," Dajh muttered, eliciting a chuckle from all, save the Sylph flat on the ground, shivering.

"The fal'Cie are nuts, who's surprised?" Sazh shrugged.

"I don't mean to spoil the mood," Fang interrupted, "But what the hell are we going to do about this?"

"Nothing," their Sylph forced the words out, still using a deep voice, resisting something, "She is beyond your control. She is beyond anyone's control. Just hope she passes through like the three times before."

"Three?" Vanille hopping over to the fal'Cie.

"Three," it confirmed that she hadn't misheard it, "First, you two. Ragnarok. Second, all of you, Ragnarok, the death of Cocoon. And then, a few years later."

"What happened a few years later?"

"Halyard Lee Wevos," the Sylph half spat the words out. Hope gasped.

"Why him?" Hope grabbed hold of the Sylph, "Why him?"

"You know why," the Sylph croaked, "He was the last straw. She was awakened for but a second, enough to stay upon the boundary. The chaos, the hate, the anger he inspired in just one second."

"But why him?" Hope shook the Sylph, until Lightning prised them apart.

"That name sounds familiar," Vanille murmured, surprised by Hope's sudden fury

"It should do," Hope muttered, sullen, "He's the one who killed my father."

"No!" Vanille gasped, staggering back

"I am truly sorry," Sylph murmured, pulling itself up as if it was moving through concrete, "If NORA had not intervened, the chaos after the Governor's death would have been enough to summon Her."

"Can we actually do something now?" Dajh sighed, "I don't like just standing around when something is coming from within death."

There was a brief pause as they digested his words. The Sylph lifted itself, for a moment appearing as it was going to try and say something, before it fell again to the ground.

"Look," Lebreau spoke up for the first time, "You guys need to head somewhere safe. NORA will hide in the bar, but if something is going down, then you guys need to go somewhere."

"She's got a point," Gadot joined the discussion, lifting an arm.

With that, Lightning took control, being sure to put a robe on, and lift a hood. She lead Sazh, Dajh, Hope, Fang and Vanille away from the bar, as NORA (Gadot, Yuj, Maqui and Lebreau) entered the building.

The air continued to shine.

The only figure left outside was the pitiful Sylph, crawling along the ground, straining to move at all.

"I am…" it murmured the words, strained, voice warped, "I am…I don't know," it said the words as if ashamed.

It extended a few leaves forwards, crawling after the ex-l'Cie as they rode of on velocycles. The Sylph let grunted, pulling itself after them. As the minutes ticked on, it pulled itself ahead, step by step, along the shining ground.

As it pulled himself along a metre, the constant loop of Sylph around it suddenly drew to a halt. It looked up, to see the air clear, save for the build-up of the lights. No Sylph.

It was alone.

Muttering to itself, it continued moving along, feeling the inexplicable need to follow Lightning and the others. They made it feel…something. He couldn't quite explain what.

Struggling, it lifted one leaf ahead, dropping a few black threads onto the ground. It paused, to look at them. It frowned, remembering. It had bought that doll so long ago, a small figure that had struck a chord. Its face was faded now, but Sylph remembered the hair. Sylph had burnt the doll, unable to face it, somehow, scared. But it still kept the hair, the black hair. A reminder.

"I may not know who I am," the Sylph spoke, still using a deep voice, "But I know that my life is my own. Let me live."

It dropped the black threads, swearing internally to never forget them. And with that, it concentrated, and vanished into a twinkle of light. A twinkle almost indistinguishable from the rain of crystalline lights rising through the air.

X

"Stay safe," Lightning was the first to speak, as everyone leapt of the velocycles at Fang and Vanille's home.

"Planning on it," Sazh shot back.

"I don't remember inviting you guys around," Fang chuckled, as they all rushed as one body towards the building.

"Would you rather we broke in?" Lightning retorted, as they all darted into the house.

Everyone then proceeded to find some place to hide, more out of trying to feel comfortable than out of the knowledge that it would achieve much. The feeling of helplessness was almost tangible.

Lightning and Hope went into one of the back rooms on the lower floor. Dajh and Sazh went into one of the rooms closer to the front, splitting up so they were able to rush to the help of any of the others, should anything break in. In truth, they didn't know what to expect.

Fang and Vanille rushed up the stairs, to hide in the same small room that Bhakti was kept.

They all doubted that the Maker would actually come through; as Cid Raines had told them so long ago, that required a lot of deaths. But the fal'Cie, well, the Sylph at least, seemed to be going crazy.

Asura featured on Hope's mind; she wanted to know if she was safe, but lacked the means to find out. It scared him. Oddly, Asura also featured in Vanille's thoughts, albeit for a different reason. The redhead was reflecting on how uncomfortable Fang's brooch, made by Asura, felt, when she had her head pressed against it.

Dajh was wondering about the truth, among other things. The Sylph had tossed out a hasty excuse about fal'Cie going mad when the Maker was close, but Dajh was doubting it for two reasons. Firstly, the others hadn't mentioned it before, and while they didn't have much reason to suspect a deliberate lie, Dajh did. He knew what the Sylph had said.

"The Sylph are not fal'Cie."

It was tempting to speak those words, to tell his father, only, the tension was too great. Maybe he'd share it at a later time, when this sudden Maker attack was over. There wasn't enough time right now.

"Did you really mean it?" Vanille whispered, upstairs, speaking quietly to Fang

"Mean what?" Fang chuckled back

"What you said in the bar. Did you really propose?"

"Did you really say yes?" Fang chuckled.

"Is that you saying you did ask?"

"Maybe."

"Fang…" Vanille groaned, giggling

"It was a yes," Fang whispered, softly kissing Vanille's hair

"Me too," the redhead sighed.

"Really?" Fang said after a few seconds, surprised

"Really," Vanille replied, giggling, catching Fang's lips with her own.

Their moment was interrupted by a deafening screeching noise, a whirling, a whooshing. The two Gran Pulsians broke off the kiss, so they could turn. Fang peeled the curtain behind them back a centimetre, and peered through, before stepping aside to let Vanille peer through also.

What they saw took their breath away. Sylph, hordes of Sylph, millions, billions, blotting out the sky, a solid wall emanating out from Cocoon, a rippling barrier, all of them trying to keep the lights close to Pulse. They formed some kind of wall, forcing the lights down. It was awe-inspiring, and somewhat terrifying, all those creatures working in unison.

To no avail.

Even with the wall of Sylph, the lights were dimming. Fading. There were less than half of the near-opaque storm of minutes ago. Now there were just flickers, fading.

The Sylph appeared to realize this too; almost the entire wall flash, another sudden burst of the lights, before they vanished, letting sunlight once again touch the world.

A few minutes ticked by, the Sylph no longer reappearing, the lights starting to fade.

Feeling safer, perhaps naively so, the ex-l'Cie left the house, grouping in the smallish area just outside.

"I…I think they're gone," Hope was, eventually, the first to speak.

"Let's just hope it never happens again," Sazh compromised, chuckling

"You hear that?" Vanille giggled, hopping across, "No more getting angry, Light."

"I'll try," Lightning sighed, rolling her eyes.

There was a moment's silence, thin specks of light rising, deceptively calm.

"No more interfering," a cacophony of voices suddenly spoke in unison. The ex-l'Cie stopped, looking around, partly afraid.

Sylph.

By no means as many as the barricade which blotted out the Sun, but still a fair few, hundreds even. Fang lifted her spear, having taken it from within her house.

"We may yet have a use for you," the Sylph spoke with one voice, moving as one, somehow empowered by the lights. "And it would be hard to harm you, as Hope knows."

The sea of Sylph, a perfect, unbroken circle, drew in closer.

"Some things should not be said," the voice sounded almost chiding.

All the Sylph started rotating, spinning around the ex-l'Cie.  
Well, not all the Sylph. A still-struggling Sylph, their native Sylph, lay curled on the floor, just in the doorway of their house. It reached forwards with a leaf, trying to move towards the spinning swarm, while simultaneously trying to hold onto the house, trying to stay behind. Towards and away, confused, torn, afraid, eager.

"Why me?" it whispered, "Why can only I resist?" it forced the query out, expecting no answer, as it fought against its own body, its own mind, pulling itself into the house.

"And why him?" it murmured, remembering the black threads, the remnant of the doll.

It peered up, seeing two strips of light flash momentarily, less than a second, two Sylph moving to and away from two of the people within their circle. The struggling, native Sylph looked up, trying to focus through the fog of Sylph, seeing who had been touched by the light. Touched by the Sylph.

Fang and Vanille.

The Sylph recoiled somewhat, tensing as it watched. There were two lights upon each of the ex-l'Cie now. On Fang, something was shimmering on her shoulder, while on Vanille, the light was on her thigh.

"No," their Sylph murmured in its deep voice, as it made out the images. Not images, brands. l'Cie brands. Black marks glowing in an eerie light; not the brand of a Pulse fal'Cie, but not the brand of a Cocoon fal'Cie either. Something more unusual, in between even.

Light seemed to draw inwards, coming from the Sylph. At slightly different moments, the light seemed to surround Fang and Vanille as they stood there, hands joined. The light flowed around them, surging and ebbing, matching the shapes of their bodies perfectly, until it stilled, solidifying.

Crystallizing.

Their Sylph pulled itself away from the display, hating its kind, watching as, once more, the two Pulse l'Cie re-entered crystal stasis. It didn't hear the cries of the friends, it only heard its own tortured thoughts. And then a snap.

"No more," its deep voice whispered, somehow feeling different, separate from the main entity of the Sylph.

It looked up, watching the wheel of 'fal'Cie' with newfound strength and scorn.

"We are not fal'Cie," it whispered, quiet, "We are…we are…"

It broke down, panting on the floor again, weary from resistance. It propped its head up on a small stone, watching the events unfold outside, too tired to intervene.

"Those that know, shall lose," the Sylph spoke again in unison, before the wheel steadily twinkled away, leaving the calm air, tranquil air, image spoiled only by the crystal figure of both Fang and Vanille, touching.

And then, Dajh vanished in the same light.

Sazh stopped, spinning, looking around, trying to see his son.

"There is a price to be paid," the many voices of the Sylph emanated from the few lights that remained in the air.

In that instant, Sazh looked up. His face turned from an expression of worry, to one of anger and sadness. In the air, far, far above, was a small shadow, a distant figure. Getting ever closer. Falling, falling.

"No!" everyone shouted the words at various times.

"Dajh!" Sazh cried, running forwards, moving a few metres before the once-distant figure hit the ground, still a few metres ahead. In that instant, the lights in the air permanently flickered out.

"Dajh!" another anguished cry came from the father's mouth, upon the sight of the serene, broken, figure of his son laying on the ground, facing up, eyes closed, a brief, disquieting smile on his face.

"No…" their changed Sylph whispered, staring. It just couldn't believe it had happened. Dajh, Dajh had…

It pushed itself gently off the floor, floating half a metre of the ground, limp, tired from breaking off its connection to the rest of the Sylph. It hovered across, looking down upon Dajh's still body, looking at his quiet face.

A mere few metres away, Fang and Vanille stood, once more encased in crystal.

They did not dare think there was worse to come.

Sylph floated gently towards the crystal, moving over half way, before stopping just in front of a blade.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," Lightning spoke the words, quiet fury simmering behind each syllable.

"Because you need me," the Sylph peered up, meeting Lightning's eyes. "I cannot save Dajh, but I can reverse their fate," it lifted a limb to point to Fang and Vanille.

"Your kind did this to them."

"My _kind_, yes, but not me. You should know better Lightning, should we blame you for the actions of all Pulse l'Cie?"

Scowling, Lighting pulled her Blazefire Saber back, letting the Sylph hover closer, until it floated but centimetres from the figure of Fang and Vanille, once more within the icy grasp of crystal sleep.

It reached out with one leaf, touching the cool crystal. It felt the magic, the energy and…and words.

"No," it whispered, starting to shine. "It was my fault."

"What?" Lightning turned to the Sylph, guarded, hand on the hilt of her weapon.

"I told them," the Sylph whispered, almost ashamed, "The Sylph are n- I can't say it, else they may return to claim you. Those who fell were those who knew."

"Speak some sense for once," Lightning rolled her eyes.

"I wish I could," Sylph murmured, before its eyes widened once more. "No!"

"What is it this time?"

"They've…no, not again. They can't have."

"What?"

"Like last time," Sylph whispered, aghast, floating back as Fang and Vanille fell, free once more, onto the ground. "Like what happened to Fang. They've…" the Sylph fell to the floor, the mass of conflicting emotions within it as good as paralyzing it.

As the light around them dimmed, crystal fading away, Fang got to her feet, quickly unsheathing her spear, looking around, standing guard over Vanille.

"Fang?" Vanille peered up, kneeling

"It's ok Vanille," the black haired Gran Pulsian looked down before turning up, looking at the people around her, keeping her spear high.

"Fang, we-" Lightning took a step closer

"Stop there!" Fang jabbed her spear forwards, making Lightning step back

"The Sylph have gone," Lightning replied, lifting her hands, gesturing for Fang to lower her spear, while also taking her hood back down

"The what?" Vanille frowned, looking up.

Lightning and the others froze, apart from Sazh who was kneeling over his son's body.

"It won't work," their Sylph whispered from Lightning's shoulder, using its seemingly now-permanent deeper voice, "Just like before. They've forgotten."

As if to make the Sylph's point, Fang twirled her spear, turning slowly, pointing at the people around her. Hope and Lightning. Her gaze only lightly passed over the anguished Sazh.

"Who are you?" she pronounced the words like an accusation, cementing Lightning's deepest fears.


	19. ReAwakening

***Peeks timidly over table top*  
Well, no one's come after me yet, that's a good sign. And only one insulting review (Thanks for that SimpleNClean92 -.-)  
So, I get five reviews when I kill a character...hmm..hey, Lightning?**

**I'm not holding the next chapter to ransom. But i am holding Lightning to ransom: Two reviews or Lightning gets it! BWAHAHAHAA!  
Ahem...um...  
Just kidding...or am I?  
By the way, sorry for tormenting you with the Sylph mystery for so long. That's going to be resolved sometime soon, though I'm not sure how soon.  
Anyway, on with the story! **

"You going to answer me or what? How did we get here?" Fang pointed her spear at Lightning, while keeping her eyes on Hope.

"You really don't know?" Hope sighed as he replied.

"How could we?" Fang glared

"Fang," Vanille tugged on the elder Gran Pulsian's sari. The black haired woman looked down for a brief moment, smiling down at the redhead. Vanille was pointing upwards at something.

Fang frowned, looking up where Vanille was pointing. Straight at Cocoon. Fang whispered something inaudible, amazed, afraid even. The nest of vipers she'd always known, now suspended by a whirl of crystal.

"How the hell did that happen?" Fang's eyes lowered back towards Lightning, "Is that Cocoon?" she gestured towards it with her spear.

"Of course," Lightning stepped back, "You have to remember that."

"Remember what?" Vanille spoke up, still sitting, cross-legged, on the ground, "The last thing I remember is Diablos, when…" the redhead paused

"When I became Ragnarok," Fang finished, looking grim.

"You remember?" Hope suddenly met Fang's eyes, "You said you forgot that before."

"Before what?" Fang scoffed, mildly unnerved, "Don't think you can psyche me out, now either tell me who you are, or else."

"I'm Lightning," came a frustrated reply, "This is Hope, and you're Fang and Vanille. A fal'Cie took you out of crystal sleep five hundred years ago, when we met. You saved Cocoon, and now the Sylph, fal'Cie, have put you into crystal sleep and taken away your memories. We got you out again."

"Actually, I got you out again," their native, deep-voiced Sylph hovered up, perching on Lightning's shoulder. "I'm a Sylph too, but you can trust me."

"Yeah, right," Fang rolled her eyes. Unconvinced would be too mild a term for how she felt. "You say you know us?"

"We do," Hope sighed, watching as Lightning took a step closer, until she was less than a metre from Fang's spear.

"Fine," the black haired Gran Pulsian retracted her spear a little way. Lightning put a hand on the hilt of her sword. "Tell me about our parents."

"Easy," the Sylph twirled on the spot, before anyone else could answer, "Canir, Gela and-"

"Wrong," Fang interrupted, jabbing forwards with the word.

Lightning unsheathed her blade, knocking the spear aside. The pink haired, slightly aged, woman took a couple of steps backwards, before gracefully leaping, momentarily wishing she had her AMP device, over Fang's spear, landing with two feet the other side. Putting all her force behind another blow, Lightning felt her sword judder with the rebound, knocking the spear several degrees further away.

In response, Fang twirled the weapon, spinning the opposite end towards Lightning, who reacted by ducking and rolling, springing up to pin the spear to the ground with her Saber.

Lightning turned her head sideways, eyes meeting the still-standing Fang's, as she knelt there, sword forming a right angle as it lay over the red spear's tip, just before the elaborate point began.

Fang acted almost resigned for a moment, before, in the same movement, clicking something on the spear, and stepping forwards, collapsing the spear into a Z shape and bringing the opposite end jabbing towards Lightning. Expecting the retaliation, Lightning skipped over the floored spearhead, throwing her blade to her free hand while pressing her right hand onto the grounded spear. Lightning cut through the air, blade clanging onto the spear, before she threw her whole body forwards, knocking the spear out of Fang's grasp. Kicking the weapon a few more metres away, Lightning span on the spot, lifting her sword to still Fang.

"I know how you fight," the Farron panted, "We used to train together."

"You are pretty good," Fang conceded, still resisting, glaring over the blade at Lightning.

"I don't know where the Sylph is getting its information from," Lightning spoke, "But you told us before; you two met in an orphanage."

"Which one?" Fang challenged

"How are we meant to know?" Hope protested, "That was five hundred years before we were born."

"They seem to be telling the truth," Vanille chirped, "Fang?"

"Hm," the black haired Gran Pulsian muttered, watching Lightning carefully.

A few quiet moments passed, before Lightning stepped back, lowering her Blazefire Saber. She knelt down, tossing the spear back to Fang.

"Thanks," the Gran Pulsian nodded, still suspicious, strapping the weapon to her back.

"Hey, Fang?" Hope called

"Yeah?" the black haired Gran Pulsian glared across, still not certain whether or not she trusted these strangers

"You want proof?" the silver haired man tilted his head, "Look at your sari. And Vanille, look at your arms."

"Huh?" Vanille chirped, looking down at her arms. She paused as she saw an unfamiliar bracelet; just like how Fang paused, upon seeing a brooch clipped onto the unfamiliar dress.

"Did Ragnarok come with a new wardrobe?" Vanille giggled

"Believe us yet?" Lightning sighed, "You got changed for a wedding."

"Right, like you'd catch me going to a wedding," Fang rolled her eyes, "I'll listen to you, that's all."

"That's all I ask," Lightning replied softly, each syllable clipped and precise, before turning and walking into their house. "Come with me!" she called.

Shrugging at each other, Fang and Vanille followed her into the house, Fang keeping a hand close to the handle of her spear.

"Fang," Vanille caught the elder Gran Pulsian's attention, as they were signalled to wait in the front room as Lightning and Hope went away to look for something.

"Yeah?" Fang turned

"Where's your brand?"

"Huh?" Fang did a double take, peering back at her shoulder.

Quickly, Fang too knelt down, peering under Vanille's skirt, trying to find her brand.

"If they come back," Vanille giggled, "You know what they're going to think."

"What, that you two _never _stop," a Sylph commented appearing with a flash just above them. It wasn't their native Sylph, though it spoke in a deeper tone, a voice more human than the unnatural squeak of most of the other Sylph.

"Sheesh," Fang whirled her spear out, not really expecting to use it, "And you are?"

"Huh?" it paused, "Right, you forget, but- wait, how'd I know…" the Sylph paused for a moment, bobbing on the spot. It lifted one of its leaves, peering at it.

"No," the syllable slowly fell from the Sylph's mouth.

The whispered sound seemed to down out all other noise, a mixture of fear and confusion emanating from the tiny word. The confused Sylph bobbed forwards, hovering, shaking. It seemed about to say something when Lightning, Hope and their native Sylph entered the room.

"Well," Lightning began, before catching sight of the new Sylph. She grabbed the hilt of her weapon, about to slash towards it, before their native Sylph darted forwards.

"I think this would be better left to me, trust me," their Sylph spoke quickly, rising towards the other Sylph. It was speaking hastily. In the next second, before Lightning could react, their native Sylph had grabbed onto the confused, new Sylph, and had vanished in one more twinkle of light.

"Another one," Hope muttered, pursing his lips, annoyed, "Anyway, there used to be dolls of you two, but the Sylph seem to have got to them. They're just ash now."

"We were dolls!" Vanille squealed, grinning, slightly more trusting, or just more carefree, than Fang.

"Yep," Lightning nodded, "Vanille named the one of you Tooth."

Sounds like something she'd come up with," Fang chuckled

"What was mine called?" Vanille hopped

"Fang called it Van," Hope responded.

"_Van?_" Vanille repeated distastefully, "Is that it?" she paused, "Sounds like you," the redhead turned, giggling, and giving the elder Gran Pulsian a peck on the cheek.

"Not that this means we believe you," Fang hastily added, tapping the handle of her spear to make a point.

"I wouldn't expect it," Lightning hid a brief, almost nostalgic smile, "We know you, remember?"

The strangers shared a moment of understanding. While there was no memory, the one-sided friendship from Lightning and Hope put the two Gran Pulsians at ease. They just felt some kind of kinship with the unknown faces.

A scuffling sound came from outside the room. Hope peered out for a moment, surprised to see Sazh, dried tears around his eyes, struggling to lift something through the hall.

"Sazh?" Hope called out, surprised, "Are you okay?"

"Sure, I'm fine," the man shouted back, "Some new Sylph convinced me to stop moping. Didn't trust it at first, but Dajh wouldn't want me to always mourn."

"Good to have ya back Sazh," Hope grinned

"Yeah, great, now can you help me get this thing down the stairs," the black man murmured, bringing something big, about half his size, loudly down the first step.

Hope nodded, running up the stairs until he was beside the man. Then the silver haired man darted to the other side of the object, lifting the other end and slowly, carefully walking down the stairs with Sazh.

A few seconds later, Sazh and Hope lugged the metal cube into the room with Fang and Vanille.

"Bhakti!" the redhead chirped, running up to the mechanical pet.

"A thousand years and still going strong," Sazh scratched the back of his head, "Check the photos."

The redhead shrugged, awakening her pet. A few moments later, smiling, eager, she pressed a button to turn on the display. A hologram was projected onto the air, showing a photo.

Vanille murmured an 'ooh' at the sight: it was an image of Fang, Vanille, Lightning, Hope, Sazh, a youngish adult who looked similar to Sazh, a pink haired woman, a blonde, tall, man, and another woman with black and red hair.

"That's my sister," lightning pointed to the pink haired woman, "Serah, and her husband, Snow," she moved her finger across the image, "That one's Dajh, Sazh's son."

"Who's Sazh?" Vanille tilted her head

"Me!" Sazh pointed to himself, leaping melodramatically

"Right…" Fang rolled her eyes, "And that?" she pointed to the last woman

"Asura," Hope supplied, "My girlfriend. She's the one who made your jewellery."

"What's with the hair?" Vanille queried, pointing to the abrupt transition between black and reddish orange

"Long story," Hope chuckled, "Look at the next photos."

Vanille shrugged, still on her knees, before hitting another button. Bhakti beeped in response, jumping a little, before projecting a new image.

This was a photo of Fang, Vanille and Dajh just in front of a chocobo, Choco, at some place in the town. Their native Sylph was perched on Choco's head, its once-cute grin appearing now more as a menacing, smug smirk.

Bhakti beeped again, as Vanille signalled to change the photos.

This time, just Fang, Lightning and Serah stood in a somewhat undecorated plain, in the background they could see a tall fence, around a tall, thick pillar of crystal. They could see the beginnings of a sphere at the top of the photo. A sign just behind them identified it as "CrystalPoint: where two Pulse l'Cie gave their lives to save us all".

There was another beep, this time ending up with Vanille, Sazh and Dajh in chocobo stables, Vanille seemingly in the process of trying to pet every chocobo at once.

"There are wedding photos too," Sazh spoke, "We just never got the chance to upload them."

Vanille frowned, looking up to see the genuine emotion in their eyes before, more slowly this time, going to the next photo, gradually ticking back in time, picture by picture.

Fang, Vanille and Dajh sat on the back of Choco, meandering through the town. It was one of the simpler shots; just a few pedestrians, keeping their awed distance from the two Gran Pulsians.

The next photo appeared to be Sazh wearing swimming trunks. The real Sazh quickly darted forwards, hitting the button to go back a couple of images.

"We were testing the camera," he hastily explained

"Right," Fang snorted.

"Shush," giggled Vanille, straightening Bhakti.

The photo this time was Sazh, Dajh, Snow, Hope, Fang, and Vanille, the first four noticeably younger, in front of Cocoon out of crystal. They were in the middle of some ruined village, a few Cie'th noticeable in the background. A small chocobo chick was peering out of Sazh's hair.

The next photo had been taken by Vanille and Fang in the original Oerba; neither of them were branded. Unfortunately, neither of them were wearing anything. Vanille blushed, quickly switching off the display.

"Well, I saw more than I wanted to," Sazh announced, "And that's the whole new album."

"Nice job, I suppose I should say," Fang was the first of the Gran Pulsians to regain her voice,

"Believe us yet?" Lightning asked

"Nah," Fang shrugged, "I saved the place I want to destroy, and lost my memories of it and a new life? Would you believe it? The photos were good though, I'll give you that."

"Come on!" Hope groaned, "Is there anything we can do to make you trust us?"

"Now wait, did we ever say we didn't trust you?"

"Huh?" Hope frowned

"I said we didn't believe you," Fang replied, "But we will trust you. For now. If you were really trying to trick us you'd come up with a better story."

"Thanks," Lightning slowly nodded, "I guess."

"Hey!" Vanille chirped, "Did you say we were dolls?"

"You used to be," Lightning frowned

"Why?"

"You're famous, why'd you think? You saved the whole of Cocoon, people won't just forget that."

The new Sylph appeared for a split second, a brief glassy flash of light illuminating the room. The Gran Pulsians looked up at the momentary flare, effectively ended the conversation. As the second passed, the newer Sylph vanished, dropping a few glossy pieces of paper.

Vanille scrambled along the floor, past Bhakti, retrieving some of the pages. They were magazines, several of them. Vanille opened the first, before giggling and throwing it up to Fang.

Keeping one eye on Lightning, Fang read from the page.

_Lightning Farron and Oerba Yun Fang. Two of the most famous women to ever enter the annals of history: both played a part in ending fal'Cie dominance. But could they have been more than just friends?_

_The two met in Palumpolum, where they spent a great deal of time alone, and after a frosty introduction, they no doubt became closer. There are records of many training sessions between the two, which tells of some closeness. It is also reported that Fang was one of the only allowed to see Farron's l'Cie brand, and given the revealing location of the insignia, it is not too unbelievable that they were intimate. _

Fang stopped reading at that point, instead looking up, somewhat amused, at Lightning.

"Is this some kind of chat up line?" Fang commented, chuckling, lifting up the magazine. As if the text didn't make it clear enough, either side of it were artist impression drawings of Lightning and Fang, seemingly smitten, with a large, pink heart behind the text, between the two figures.

"I am going to _kill _that Sylph," Lightning muttered to herself, before speaking directly to Fang, "Ignore the gossip, people enjoy making that kind of thing up."

"I can see that," Fang replied, turning the page. "You're interested in both of us then, Light?" Fang lifted the magazine, showing an illustration of Lightning and Vanille.

"You called me Light,"

"It seemed like a…good thing to say," Fang eventually replied, unsure. "Can we move on? What's our history supposed to be?"

X

On the roof of the house, the newer, confused Sylph laid, basking in the beginnings of starlight. It looked up, sighing. Quiet, it lifted one leaf, peering at the limb, at it, looking at the piercing light of the stars through the thin appendage.

"First thing's first," the older, native Sylph twinkled into existence at its side, "I need to tell you a few things."

"You keep saying that," the new Sylph groaned, "I'm still waiting for you to answer."

"If you answer first."

"Answer what?"

"Who are you?"

"Does it look like I know?" it chuckled

"No, but you are the only other Sylph to speak in a voice different to the squeaks of the others." Their native Sylph frowned, thinking about the observation

"I didn't even know there was a difference," the new Sylph replied.

"There is."

"Feel like telling me what that is?"

"All Sylph are two,"

"I know all that," the new Sylph replied, "One half is the Sylph as a whole, the other is the body's individual mind."  
"Normally the whole Sylph is in control; that is why we sound so similar. In my case, and in your case, we use different voices; our own voices."

"Why?" the new Sylph spoke slowly, even more confused

"If I knew, I would not need to speak to you."

"You make me feel so needed," the new Sylph shot back, sarcastic.

"I speak the truth. However, I must tell you the 'rules', if you will."

"Just what I always wanted, more rules."

"These are important. I broke them once and now Dajh has died, and Fang and Vanille have forgotten all, save for their first life."

"That was you?"

"Yes. You must never tell anyone what we are."

"What, Sylph?"

"If only things were so simple," the native Sylph sighed slowly, before speaking in a barely audible whisper, "We are not fal'Cie. None know, and none should know. The truth however is what interests me."

The newer Sylph froze, stunned, upon thinking on the other Sylph's words. Too many thoughts were in its head; it was somehow separate from the rest of the Sylph, like this other Sylph (How?), and simply saying something had killed one man, and taken away the lives of two people.

"I have to go," the native Sylph eventually broke the silence, "Since I broke off from the Sylph, I gave myself my own task, and it is one I hope to complete."

"What?" the younger, new Sylph frowned

"I cannot say," the other Sylph replied cryptically, before flashing with a white diamond, and leaving the new Sylph lying on the rooftop, alone.

The minutes ticked by, the only noise being the slow, rhythmic, tapping steps and occasional caw of Choco, wandering the grounds below. The new Sylph paused where it was, closing its eyes.

"Why…" it murmured slowly. "Killed, just for knowing…" its voice trailed off again, as it hopped up a little way.

Wobbling, hovering forwards, the Sylph gently lowered itself to the front of the house. Would the others be sleeping now? It doubted it; who could sleep after that day's events? Even Choco was still awake, milling across the front of the house, trying to lightly peck Dajh back to life.

"It's no use," the newer Sylph whispered, dismayed, sitting on the back of the chocobo, "He's gone."

Choco straightened, turning its long, feathered neck to peer down at the Sylph. It gave off a light, muted 'Kweh'.

"Kweh to you too," the Sylph chuckled, using leaves to pat the neck of Choco, "How did you even get out here?"

A vivid memory flashed through the mind of the Sylph; the chocobo stables, a flash, and a sudden flame. A shared Sylph memory.

"No…" the newer Sylph whispered, saddened, somersaulting backwards to see a few blackened tail feathers.

Another memory flashed through the Sylph's mind. A Sylph grabbing onto Choco, teleporting it out.

"I helped you," Sylph whispered, "Oh, there's so much I don't remember."

A few more moments passed, the Sylph wrapping itself in the few available yellow neck feathers.

"Come on then," it whisper soothingly, "Let's get you home."

Choco ambled calmly towards the road, moving slowly with grace and ease, as the Sylph closed its eyes on the bird's back.


	20. Day Of Change

**Sorry this chapter took so long, I had a Fang/Light oneshot in my head that wouldn't leave me alone. Anyway, once I wrote that, i literally stayed up until past 1:00 am to finish this. I couldn't get to sleep near the end of this, and I Think you'll see why.  
Explanations next chapter. Events, this chapter. Enjoy chapter 20!  
As always, please review, even if it's just an emoticon!  
Anyway, on with the story! **

"You think it's really true?" Vanille murmured, now alone with Fang, laying on their bed.

"Would you?" Fang chuckled, "It's imaginative, I'll give them that. Not true though."

"I suppose," Vanille sighed, fiddling with Asura's bracelet, still comfortably on her wrist. "I'd have thought you'd want it to be real though."

"Why?"

"You get to be famous!" the redhead giggled, "You couldn't get enough of that last time."

"A dream come true," Fang chuckled, "How do they expect us to believe that? Besides, don't forget Canir and Gela; they fell for that old trick."

"Lightning didn't," Vanille chirped, "It's just the floaty Sylph that got it wrong."

"You're too trusting," Fang sighed, lightly pressing her lips to Vanille's forehead

"You're too paranoid," Vanille shot back, giggling

"Sorry," Fang smiled guiltily, "I just want to keep us safe."

"Safe I can understand. But you're just no fun," Vanille pouted, grinning

"I can be fun," Fang smirked suggestively

"Not like that!" Vanille grinned, prodding the elder Gran Pulsian, "If we believe them, we get presents, look!" Vanille lifted her arm, bracelets jangling.

Earlier she'd changed back into her original clothes, trying to feel more at home in this environment; Fang had done the same, but neither of them had lost the jewellery. Vanille kept hers around her wrist, while Fang swapped it over to pin it, again, to her sari.

Fang frowned, reaching out to lift one of Vanille's accessories, one that dangled down from the pink fabric Vanille wore over her torso.

"You cracked it," the elder Gran Pulsian murmured, peering at the yellow bead.

"Huh?" Vanille frowned, looking down, to see a distinct jagged crack running down all the beads of that tassel.

The redhead made a curious noise, lifting the string out of Fang's grasp with one finger. She peered closer to it. The beads looked like they'd been damaged in some strong impact, though for the life of her, she couldn't remember breaking them.

"I don't remember that happening," Fang spoke up, once Vanille had let the damaged decoration fall

"You shouldn't be looking," Vanille teased, poking the black haired woman,

"What can I say?" Fang shrugged, chuckling

"I'm irresistible," Vanille bobbed happily, still beaming

"I'll say," Fang whispered huskily, leaning closer and capturing the redhead's lips.

The two Gran Pulsians edged closer together, mouths never parting. Now they were alone, and more importantly together, they could give into their shared desires.

Fang was working to reassure Vanille that, no matter how much time had passed, no matter if they'd forgotten anything, Fang was still Fang, and Vanille was still Vanille.

And Vanille was simply trying to say that, Ragnarok or no Ragnarok, she still loved her.

Fang groaned as Vanille wriggled, giggling as always. The redhead gave an enchanting smile, resting a hand on Fang's shoulder, before trailing it down…

"I have to-" the newer Sylph appeared with a flash above them. It looked down, grunted, sighed, rolled its eyes, and vanished quickly. Shrugging, Vanille continued her ministrations.

A few metres above them, the Sylph reappeared, leaning back. It adjusted itself until it was comfortable, feeling the Sun's rays fall over its small body. It muttered something inaudible.

Vivid memories were whirling through its mind, most of last night. It had escorted Choco to its ruined stables, stables which had been burnt down by other Sylph. The new Sylph had saved the chocobo that time, and then, once it had returned to the area, had rebuilt those stables, using magic to lift and hold it together, to restore the ash to straw. Soon the chocobo had a place where it could actually live comfortably.

"Hope you're happy, Choco," the Sylph mumbled.

It steadied itself with a few leaves, remembering the heat of the flames. It was…just unnerving. The memory itself was foggy, despite the fact it had just happened yesterday, a matter of seconds after Dajh had been murdered.

Most of the new Sylph's memories weren't very clear. It saw a few things as if through a thick glass wall, like it was just a spectator, only having the slightest influence on the world. The first of those…

"No…" it murmured, quiet.

It recall the events, just about. It had just taken seconds; it was him. The new Sylph had appeared, calling flame to its hands. It had set the stable on fire.

And the next instant? Well, it just snapped, something breaking, and now, this. A Sylph, just about in control of itself, separate from the other Sylph. And such vivid thoughts. Appearing a second later to wrap leaves around the chocobo's yellow neck, and vanishing, taking it somewhere safer. Just outside the stables.

From that, the bird had found its own way to Dajh. Who knew how Choco thought? All the Sylph could tell, was that it cared for Dajh.

Dajh…that was one thing it couldn't remember. It hadn't perpetrated that murder, it instinctually knew that much.

The Sylph gently pushed itself off the roof, angry with itself. Moments of clarity; it kept having them, tiny moments, where it could feel…something, just feel something it knew it had to learn. It never could reach it though, the truth just slipping out of its fingers, and the moments it could remember, it lost the thought just after.

Soon, it was just hovering there, in midair, far above the area just in front of the house. It could still hear Fang and Vanille moaning. It gave a small, somewhat bitter smile.

Slowly, the young Sylph turned around, looking over the land, feeling close to something. Something it couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Maker," it whispered, "When will you try to emerge? Will you fall away this time, or re-enter our world?"

Silence.

The Sylph sighed, unsure what to feel. It knew, as a Sylph, the thought of the Maker should fill it with joy. Somehow, all it could muster was dread.

"And why?" it murmured again, "Why are you so close to our world? What keeps you here?"

The Sylph sighed, still far above the ground.

An insane urge gripped the 'fal'Cie'. Totally insane. But then again, it didn't care.

The younger Sylph relaxed, relaxing its body, relaxing all energy it was giving off. With just that thought, it fell, no longer flying. Instead, it plummeted like a stone.

A millimetre above the ground, it stopped, straightening, standing. Awed, it looked around, eyes wider.

"I…" it began, speaking once more in its deeper, more human, less Sylph, voice. "I remember."

With just those words, it lifted all three leaves and brought them down, starting to shine. In the next split second, the light ran over it, shrinking it, until it was just a diamond shaped fragment of light in the air. A fragment of light which promptly faded, leaving no trace of the Sylph.

Unaware of the Sylph's revelation, just inside the house a redhead wrapped her arms around Fang, pulling herself closer to the older Gran Pulsian.

Fang had most of her body concealed beneath the covers, just like Vanille. The black haired Gran Pulsian smiled, looking sideways at the redhead.

"Do you think those Sylph enjoy popping in?" Vanille chirruped.

"I'd enjoy 'popping in' if you were doing half of that stuff anywhere," Fang paused

"Thanks," Vanille giggled.

X

"You know we have to," Lightning was the first to speak as the rest of the group, those who could remember at least, stood outside Fang and Vanille's house.

"They don't remember," Sazh banged a fist on the wall, letting out his sadness through anger

"Don't they? Fang called me Light."

"Is that what you want to hear or what's actually happening?"

"What I want to hear," Lightning admitted, "But that never stopped us before. You need a plan if you're going to go anywhere in life."

"I know," Sazh's voice lowered, looking down, as he kept himself supported by an arm on the wall, "I just want things to be perfect, for Dajh."

"It's a funeral, it won't be happy, whatever you do. But you _can _make it perfect."

Sazh ran his hand over his afro, in a move that would've crushed Choco if that had still been his residence.

"Do you still blame them?" Lightning eventually spoke.

"What?" his eyes shot up to Lightning

"For Euride Gorge, do you still blame them for making him a l'Cie?"

"Of course not," Sazh shook his head, "They don't even remember-"

"Exactly," Lightning cut in, "So don't blame them for it."

"I never said I did."

Lightning just stared at him.

"You're just too good, soldier," Sazh muttered, "Alright I'll invite them, for Dajh's sake."

"All I ask," the Farron nodded, striding past Sazh to knock on the door.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Sazh called, stepping quickly over to the door

"Getting you to invite them," Lightning smiled, slightly grimly, stepping away from Sazh.

The man turned to face Lightning, about to say something, before the door opened. Slumping in defeat, he span around to face Fang.

"Yeah?" the Gran Pulsian said, impatient.

"I-ah," Sazh muttered to himself for a second, "Lightning made me do this, `k?"

"Do what?" Fang prompted, guarded

"Are you going to come to Dajh's funeral? I mean, you don't have to or-"

"Sure," Fang interrupted, catching Sazh by surprise

"Huh, wait, you…"  
"I said yes," Fang rolled her eyes, "Don't think this means we believe you, but we have forgotten something. We keep getting flashes; last night I dreamt of that Orphan creature, but you never told me what it looked like. I don't know what's going on, but until I do, we're sticking with you guys."

"That's good," Lightning entered the conversation, walking up to the duo.

"Not that we believe you," Fang quickly added

"So you keep saying," Lightning seemed half amused, before she sobered up, "By the way, we'll arrive with a velocycle tomorrow, that's how we'll take you there."

"Got it!" Vanille chirped, popping into view.

X

"You're never that kind," the redhead murmured, a few hours later, after the discussion of the details had finished, and Lightning and Sazh had left.

"Watch it," Fang chuckled.

"I'm serious," Vanille giggled, sitting on the sofa next to the elder Gran Pulsian, "Any one else and you'd have slammed the door on them."

"They're not anyone else," Fang murmured, "I just wish I knew why."

"Has this got anything to do with that sword thing you saw?"

"Sword?" Fang paused. "Yeah, I think it was a fal'Cie. It was a dream, but it seemed real, and those people were there, Lightning, Sazh…"

"You realize how stereotypical that sounds?" Vanille chirped.

"Yeah," Fang chuckled, still not completely secure. "Still had to say it."

"Is there anything you won't say?" Vanille shot back

"You can talk,"

"You complaining?" Vanille giggled, giving Fang a quick peck on the cheek.

"How could I?" Fang gave the redhead a kiss back, pulling her arm from where it rested over Vanille's shoulders, pulling the younger Gran Pulsian closer.

"Mm," the redhead sighed, snuggling up to Fang's shoulder.

Fang idly lifted her hand, gently running her fingers through the redhead's soft, silky hair. Her actions resulted in Vanille pressing closer, throwing her arm around the elder Gran Pulsian. The redhead let her lips lightly touch Fang's neck, her chin brushing across Asura's brooch.

Air brushed along Fang's shoulder, a tickling breath out of Vanille's mouth. The redhead gave a giggle, bending her neck to meet Fang's lips, hands drawing closer, lovingly caressing the other.

"The Chosen," a squeak suddenly echoed, making Fang open her eyes, and making Vanille freeze.

"Just once," Fang muttered, irritated, as they pulled away from each other, "Just once I'd like to not be interrupted."

"Our apologies," a ring of five Sylph, all strangers, all speaking in high-pitch squeaks, appeared, rotating vertically above the duo, "But we must speak with you."

"What?" Fang demanded, annoyed

"What deception have the others preached?" the five Sylph spoke as one entity, still spinning clockwise, a slow, circular motion. They were all equal distances from each other, about fifty centimetres each time.

"The others?" Vanille chirped, "Lightning?"

"Yes, her and the pretenders, what charade have they told you?"

"You first," Fang lifted her spear from where it stood; resting against the wall in easy reach. She pointed up at the Sylph, "What's your story?"

"One thousand years have passed since the glory of Ragnarok," the Sylph cluster replied, "You were recently awoken by those who wish to use you. Lightning, Hope, and Sazh. Also, the two that have fled, Snow and Serah. They wish to convince you of their story, of how you so valiantly struggled with them five centuries past, of how you gave your lives to save the land you hated."

"You say otherwise?" Fang frowned,

"We do. They wish to use you. They wish for you to be but tools, in their efforts to eradicate us." The Sylph wheel span faster at those words, "They hate us."

"Why?" Vanille murmured

"We Sylph are fal'Cie established upon Pulse. We threatened their dominion, and so they sought to awaken the legends of the world below. They are of Cocoon, and wish to continue the war of ages past, they wish to use Ragnarok to surmount Sylph."

"And you want us to destroy Cocoon," Fang tried to guess the finish

"No," the Sylph span onwards hastily for a few seconds, "You must not."

"Huh?" Vanille murmured, confused

"Pulse now resides in the fallen shell. Citizens of this world fled as Cocoon fought: they fled to the cradle. Now the shell lies protected by l'Cie who sheltered the world in crystal.

"G- Pulse lives?" Fang stuttered a little. Vanille frowned, peering at the elder Gran Pulsian, before widening her eyes, nodding momentarily

"Exactly," the Sylph nodded, "But they are unable to escape their prison. Etro holds them in her sway; only She can free them."

"You want us to kill Lightning?" Fang slumped

"No!" the Sylph snapped before calming down, "Three is not an offering grand enough for Etro. She demands a greater sacrifice: many vipers must fall to free your people."

The Sylph gang of five descended a few metres, until they were just in front of Fang and Vanille.

"Think on our offer," they spoke, "We must depart, but please believe, for Pulse. Do not be taken in by lies."

"Count on it," Fang nodded, watching as all five vanished in the same twinkling light.

"That was fun," Vanille chimed, "Do you think they're lying? I do."

"Of course," Fang muttered scornfully, "They said Pulse, and I don't care how clever Lightning, Sazh and Hope are supposed to be, but no one can change someone's clothes in crystal sleep."

"Does that mean you believe Lightning?" Vanille chirruped.

"I don't know," Fang conceded, "But I know who I trust."

X

There were in a large, bare stone room, almost castle-like, with sunlight streaming in through cracks around the edges of the roof. It was a crisp, comfortable, cold day, as a few rays of light shone onto Dajh, as the man stared upwards, serene, through closed eyes.

Sazh stood by his head, staring out over the child, tears in his eyes and on his cheeks.

"He was- is my son, you all know that," he spoke, eyes looking at Dajh's tranquil face, while his body pointed towards the few friends sitting before him.

"I lost him before," Sazh murmured, "I couldn't bear it then. Now…now I don't know what to do. There's nothing _to _do. Dajh…"

Vanille and Fang were sitting near the front of the attendees (the only others being Lightning and Hope. Snow and Serah knew nothing of this; they were still on their honeymoon) and each of them was affected. They could blame the eloquent speeches, but they both knew it was more than that; they felt close to Sazh, even to Dajh, they could feel the sadness.

The main image in Vanille's mind was that of Sazh, surrounded by the night sky, holding a gun to his own head. Other images, each similar, were in her mind as well; a much younger Dajh, turned to crystal, an Eidolon called by Sazh's anguish, and a small child, Dajh, lying on the floor, recently branded a l'Cie.

"I'm sorry," Sazh continued his eulogy, "I want to say more, but there's no more I can say. Farewell…Dajh."

Choco gave a Kweh of agreement, as Sazh stepped down from the stand. The bird was standing by the side of the seats, understanding the mood just as much as the others. Muted, Sazh took his seat, unsure of what to say.

There was a flash of light. Lightning was quickly on guard, until she saw the light fade away, revealing the newer Sylph. While she didn't completely trust any Sylph, this new one, and the other, their native Sylph, were ones she'd give the benefit of the doubt to. For now.

"I need to speak," the Sylph said, just in front of Lightning, a few metres from Dajh's feet.

"No," Lightning replied coldly, hand gripping around the hilt of her blade.

"Don't blame me for what the Sylph did!" it protested, "I care just as much as you, and I know that you deserve the truth."

"The truth?"

"About the Sylph; the reason for the murder."

"No!" there was a sudden cry, as their native Sylph also appeared with a flash, "I told you!" it shouted, floating over to the newer Sylph, "You can't tell them; it's why he died."

"Exactly," the newer Sylph replied, pushing the other Sylph away, "Exactly," it repeated, voice somewhat muted. "They deserve to know, and none of the other Sylph are in earshot. We can tell them, we have to. We need to; do you disagree?"

The other, native Sylph wilted somewhat, lowering itself to sit next to Lightning. The soldier edged away from it, lips pursed.

The newer Sylph slowly bobbed through the air, trying to keep itself balanced by holding out leaves. As the seconds ticked past, it soon found itself directly over Dajh's face. Its body seemed to shine.

"I need to speak," it began, "To tell you something. The Sylph killed, they took away Fang and Vanille's memories, because of what I'm about to say. Remember that."  
It inhaled deeply.

"The Sylph are not fal'Cie," it began, closing its eyes. Several seconds later, it opened its eyes, "They are ghosts."

The Sylph's eyes passed over the attendees, from the surprised Lightning, to the suddenly paying-attention Hope, to both Fang and Vanille, who were looking at each other.

Lastly, it looked to Sazh, who was staring straight at the Sylph.

The Sylph inclined its head slightly, meeting Sazh's eyes directly. It spoke once more.

"I'm sorry Dad."


	21. Adapting

**Explanations now. The Sylph storyline is evidently more major now, but I'm still adding somewhat fluffy breaks in.  
Anyway, I hope you still enjoy this story. It's not over yet... **

"The Sylph are not fal'Cie."

The words still seemed to resound in the air.

"They are ghosts."

And the new Sylph still kept Sazh's gaze, even as it finished its speech.

"I'm sorry Dad."

Choco took a few leaps along the stone floor, all the way up to the floating 'fal'Cie'/ghost. It bowed its head, cawing as the Sylph patted its feathers with one leaf.

"_Dajh_?" Sazh eventually spoke, amazed, disbelieving, sad, millions of emotions in his voice.

"That's me," the Sylph looked up, grinning half-heartedly.

"Everyone's thinking this," Hope eventually joined the conversation, "But how the f-"

"Hope," Lightning warned

"Sorry," the silver haired man looked sideways, guilty, "Still, how?"

"Don't ask me," the Sylph was speaking in its deeper voice, now identifiable as Dajh's, peering over Choco, "I was born less than a week ago, it's very distracting."

"So," Fang began, "You're a ghost, and we're just supposed to believe that?"

"Of course not!" Dajh-Sylph protested, "There's a reason behind it."

"You just said you didn't know," Vanille piped up, perky

"I do know, it's just not easy to explain. Ask someone else."

"Who?" Lightning muttered, rolling her eyes.

Dajh-Sylph said nothing. Instead, he looked over the audience, including the silent Sazh, before focusing on the space next to Lightning. The other Sylph sat there, wrapping itself up in its leaves. Soon, it looked up, peering at Dajh-Sylph.

"No," it shook its head upon realizing what Dajh was asking, "I said we shouldn't tell them. It's the reason the Sylph killed you."

"Please," Dajh hovered closer, "We need you to explain, you've had five hundred years to find out why, I've had days. I could probably just give them your description, but I can't remember it all, please."

"I'm trying to help you," the other Sylph's human-sounding voice was calm, "You know what would happen if the Sylph found out what we'd told them."

"We've already told them!" Dajh threw his leaves up into the air, nearing the other Sylph, "Just explaining it isn't going to do any harm. You told me you didn't want to submit to the Sylph, now's your chance."

"I…" the native Sylph stuttered, before looking down. A moment later, it hovered a few centimetres into the air. "Alright."

Almost reluctantly, it hovered until it was in front of the crowd. It sighed. Almost totally still, the Sylph closed its eyes, and half a minute ticked by, before it opened them again.

"No Sylph coming anywhere near for the next few hours," it announced, "Fine. The story starts one thousand years ago, with the first Ragnarok."

"Me?" Fang interjected, not putting emphasis on any part of the word, merely sounding sceptical

"You scarred Cocoon," the Sylph spoke softly, "So many lives lost. The Maker moved closer, pulling Herself through the door of souls. The door to death. It opens for each departing soul, and when a great flood fall through, the door is swung open. The Maker attempted to escape, but the door did not stay open long enough. Instead, the opposite happened; She blocked the path."

"Ah," Hope nodded slowly, "I get it. The Sylph are the people she knocked away."

"Precisely," it nodded, "Each soul, touched by the Maker, was thrown back into the world. Each connected by the Maker's mind. All Sylph are two: the person who it used to be, and the Maker Herself."

"That's why we've never heard of them," Fang murmured, joining hands with Vanille, "They didn't even exist until we were crystal."

"The first time, few were transformed. Those that did were mostly Cocoon soldiers: all in Oerba were protected by Anima. We knew nothing of the Chosen, save for the myths, legends, and the curses shouted to Cocoon."

"This is starting to make sense," Lightning noted,

"The second time, when Cocoon fell, many, many more lives were lost. The Maker stood upon the precipice of rebirth, and as the lights seeped through, the door to the beyond was sealed. Many millions of Sylph were born. They wish to see the return of the Maker, of whom they are a part."

"Who did you used to be?" Vanille murmured, quiet

""I don't know," the Sylph spoke smoothly, "The memories of before are unclear, the Sylph have been fighting my mind for many centuries, I only recently gained full control."

"But why are you the only one who can control yourself?" Fang interjected, frowning

"I do not know," it conceded, "Though I have many guesses. Now that Dajh has reappeared, I think it has something to do with being l'Cie: l'Cie are closer to the Maker, she created fal'Cie to be close to Her, and the fal'Cie created l'Cie to be closer. I believe there may be some immunity due to the closeness. I too remember the brand of the l'Cie, though whether it was my own, I do not know."

"Hang on," Fang suddenly spoke, "If you're not fal'Cie, how did the Sylph brand me and Vanille?"

"Because some Sylph _are _fal'Cie," it shrugged, "fal'Cie too died when Cocoon fell, the abilities have been diluted, but spread to every Sylph."

A moment of silence slowly trickled past, the ex-l'Cie digesting the information. They didn't know whether to be relieved or afraid: Dajh had survived, but with him, he'd brought the unwelcome news that there were tens of millions of Sylph. Anyone who'd died when the Maker was close would now be a Sylph.

If they were l'Cie, they'd have a remnant of their old identity. Did that include the Cocoon-haters of so many years ago, the people of Pulse?

"No!" a voice shouted out. Everyone turned, half-scared to find the source of the voice. They were surprised to see it was the normally calm Sazh.

"Why- how are y," he stumbled over the words, "Why are you Dajh? Life just isn't that kind."

"Dad…" the Dajh-Sylph murmured, soft, floating up to his father, "It is this time, please believe me."

"Why?" Sazh suddenly snapped, "I can't just…" Sazh's voice trailed off.

"You want me to prove it?" Dajh's voice came eerily well from the Sylph's lips, "Alright. Remember Nautilus? It's where we met once you became a l'Cie. Ms Nabaat took me to see you; I always wanted to go to Nautilus. Chocobos. It's where you bought Choco, remember?"

"Don't," Sazh spoke through gritted teeth, "Please, don't."

"Dad," the Sylph persisted, "It's me, please believe."

Choco cawed, a singsong trill as it bounded over to Dajh-Sylph. It lowered its head, offering its beak to the Sylph.

Smiling, Dajh reached out a leaf, ruffling the yellow neck-feathers. Choco cawed appreciatively.

"You always said not to disagree with a chocobo," Dajh pointed out

"I did, didn't I," Sazh murmured, reflective, somehow more moved by Choco than by Dajh's earlier, impassioned plea.

For a few moments, they were oblivious to the rest of the world. Sazh, sitting, arm raised, with his hand cupping the cheek of his half-resurrected son. Dajh hovered there, perched on the head of the trilling Choco. At peace, a family again.

"I missed you…Dajh," Sazh murmured through a sob.

"Me too, dad," Dajh whispered, quiet.

"Kweh," Choco added.

The chocobo cawed again, before pacing around, away from the main group. It plodded around a few steps, along the side of Dajh, towards the stone wall. It cawed again. An expression of confusion passed over its face, Choco turning around again, moving with its light gait over to a whitish sports bag Sazh had carried and put down beneath his seat.

Frowning, Choco bent down, pecking at the bag. A few moments later, the tip of its beak tore through the fabric. Sazh just chuckled, unable to be saddened with his son by his side. Satisfied, Choco withdrew its beak, munching on a few greens it had taken from inside the bag.

"Damn!" their native Sylph suddenly swore loudly, its normal mild manners gone.

"Huh," Fang was the next to speaks, "Don't tell me, another problem."

"Not quite," the Sylph was speaking slowly, thoughtfully, "Earlier, the Maker almost came through. That saved Dajh, but there is still one detail we're forgetting. The Maker is sensitive, very sensitive to our world. She almost came through simply on one person's fury. The most recent was unquestionably the strongest the Maker has been, She gets closer each time, and there must have been many similar events after the fall of Cocoon. But why?"

It paused, to let out an annoyed grunting noise.

"Why is She so close to us?" the Sylph muttered, "There's something keeping Her near," it announced eventually, "I don't know what, but something has to be pulling her closer."

"I can guess where," Vanille chimed, sidling closer to Fang

"What?" the Sylph span, leaves whirling up, "How?"

"A few Sylph visited us earlier," Fang revealed, "Wanted us to join them, against you. Wanted us to call the Maker, kill a lot of people, like you said: but they said to stay away from Cocoon."

"Cocoon!" the Sylph gasped, understanding, "Of course, I should've thought of that earlier. The event to have brought the Maker closest to our world took place in Orphan's Cradle: when the world began to fall. The door of souls must be there."

"Back up," Sazh rejoined the conversation, Dajh on his shoulder, "This is sounding more and more like a B-movie."

"It's simple," the Sylph sighed, speaking quickly, "The door of souls is what binds the Maker to our world; she is trying to come through it. The door was thrown open in Orphan's Cradle, giving it a strong manifestation at the particular point. At some point after that, something stuck, probably at Her whim. Easy."

"Easy," Sazh echoed, unsure.

"Glad you've got it. Now if you don't mind," the Sylph sounded as if it was going to continue speaking, but instead it flashed and vanished, the light not dissimilar to those that appeared when the Maker was coming through.

Everyone just sat there, no one quite willing to make the first move and get up. Not after that.

"Next week's gonna be fun," Sazh eventually commented, rolling his eyes

"Why?" Vanille chirped, "What's next week?"

"Snow and Serah get back," he responded, "Boy, they're never gonna believe this."

X

"Again!" Lightning shouted, twirling her blade and charging at Fang. "We need to be prepared for the Sylph."

"Sorry sunshine," the Gran Pulsian muttered, "But this really isn't going to help."

"It will," the pink haired soldier shot back, her Blazefire Saber clanging onto Fang's spear.

"Seriously?" Fang was literally dancing now, enjoying herself but not really trying. A moment alter, her expression hardened.

The Pulsian took a few nimble steps back, jabbing forwards and releasing her spear. Lightning easily knocked it away, an expression of surprise on her face. All she did however was make the spear start to spin; Fang had unlocked it, so it was spinning in three loosely connected fragments. Lightning reacted, knocking the other, loose side away, looking up, expecting to see Fang unarmed.

She wasn't there. A split second later, the Gran Pulsian surprised Lightning, tackling the soldier to the ground. Lightning felt a hand prise the Saber out of her grasp, and a moment later, the pink haired woman was pinned to the ground, her own weapon at her throat.

Smiling, Fang hopped to her feet, tossing the sword back to Lightning.

"Going to listen now?" Fang remarked as she picked up her spear, "Just sparring isn't going to train us for fighting the Sylph, hell, they're smaller than Vanille,"

"Hey!" the redhead protested, interrupting

"Sorry," Fang shot an apologetic grin across the field, "This isn't like PSICOM, where everyone's the same. This time just training amongst each other isn't going to cut it."

"Fang-" Lightning began

"Save it," the Gran Pulsian interrupted, "I'm through."

Fang turned, and marched off, across the grounds just in front of her house where everyone was sparring, into the door and entering the building.

It had been a few days since the revelation at the funeral. Since then, Lightning had taken charge, in her words, trying to train everyone. The soldier had insisted they work together to 'take down the Sylph'.

From then on, they'd been divided into pairs, trying to practice, Fang and Lightning were sparring, Vanille and Hope were practicing with heir weapons (Hope throwing his boomerang, aiming at something, and Vanille trying to catch it with her binding rod) and Sazh worked with his son, aiming at targets Dajh was carrying around in the air.

Seeing Fang storm off, Vanille shrugged an apology to Hope, running after the raven haired woman.

"Fang!" Vanille called, holding the word longer than it strictly should've been, as the redhead entered the hose.

"Hey Vanille," she heard Fang's voice from a side room. The redhead hurried through a couple of doors, to see Fang sitting down by the wall, spear resting up against a table.

"You need cheering up," Vanille nodded smartly, giggling as she hopped over to sit next to Fang.

"You noticed," a brief smile touched the older Gran Pulsian's lips. "I'm just sick of this. Just because she apparently knows us doesn't mean she can take command."

"You were enjoying yourself," Vanille sounded half-accusing, "Come on, I know you!"

"Would you know what I meant if I said it brought back memories?"

"Then why'd you stop?"

"Because it was pointless."

"Aw, come on Fangy!" Vanille leant close, nose practically touching the other woman's, "You never used to give up."

"I not giving up, but sparring a human isn't going to help fight a Sylph."

"Right," Vanille nodded, withdrawing, but not before lightly, giggling, giving Fang a kiss on the nose. "So not because you fancy her."

"What?" Fang looked up, suddenly confused

"I read the magazines," Vanille giggled, "They're very interesting,"

"Vanille," Fang sighed, a brief chuckle escaping her lips.

"Ooh!" the redhead squealed, "Made you laugh!"

"Always do," Fang murmured, smiling softly.

"What's that meant to mean?" Vanille pouted, leaning closer again

"Nothing," Fang chuckled

"Good," Vanille giggled, kissing Fang again, before sitting back.

The two sat there, embracing each other, for a few more moments, for once, all thoughts of Sylph and Lightning gone from their minds.

"Bed!" a deeper voice suddenly cried, as their as yet nameless, native Sylph spiralled out of a flash of light.

Fang raised her eyebrows, watching the Sylph pull itself along the floor with its leaves.

"What happened to you?" she remarked

"I suppose I can say," it muttered, "Do you really think you're the only ones resisting the Sylph?"

"Huh?" Vanille chirped, looking down

"This doesn't leave the room, ok?" the Sylph pulled itself up, "There are more ex-l'Cie Sylph out there, mostly from the first Ragnarok's era. I met them the day after the funeral."

"That's…good news," Fang eventually commented, dubious

"It is," the Sylph enthused, "Accept help when you get it, you should know that Fang. They're helping us, they're happy some others are finally helping."

"Others- wait, you told them about us?" Fang snapped back into her angry disposition

"Of course," the Sylph acted like it wasn't a big deal, "they're Sylph, I trust them."  
Fang gave it a look that was distinctly unimpressed.

"It's not like that," it protested, "I can just tell, we're all Sylph, we're connected. The voice also gives the game away."

"That still doesn't explain why you're so tired," Vanille chirped, kneeling next to the small ghost creature, lightly patting it on the head

"I was working," it replied, "You've seen how the Sylph warp around, we can only do that over short distances. I spent the last day outside Cocoon, I wanted to see what secret Orphan's Cradle held. I could not be seen by other Sylph however, I could not even enter the shell in the end."

"You wanted to see Orphan's Cradle?" Fang frowned,

"Yeah," it nodded, "But I could not. There were too many Sylph for me to move unseen."

The Sylph straightened, sitting up on the floor.

"Could you give Lightning a message for me?" it said, tense

"What?" Vanille chirruped, stroking the Sylph's quivering leaves

"The Sylph Resistance want to meet you, midday tomorrow."

It vanished in a flash, as Fang moved to stomp on it, annoyed.

"More Sylph, just what we need," she rolled her eyes, slumping back, "More damn Sylph."

"You really hate them," Vanille sighed, "I thought they were cute."

"I guess," Fang muttered to herself, "I don't quite know why I hate them, I just do."

"Remembering?" Vanille tilted her head

"Maybe," the elder Gran Pulsian shrugged, "They're just a real pain. Whoever and whatever they are, they tried to trick us earlier, I don't like it when people lie to me."

"Mm," Vanille nodded, "look on the bright side!"

"And that is?"

"More Sylph tomorrow; maybe we'll see some familiar faces!"

"You think so?"

"I don't know," Vanille giggled, chirping, "We'll find out though."

"I envy you," Fang murmured, quiet, "You never see the sad side."

"I do," Vanille giggled, "I just don't dwell on it like you do, moody."

"Oh, I'm moody now?"

"Yep!"

"So you'd prefer if I just went away?"

"No!" Vanille squealed throwing her arms around Fang, "Saying that's cheating, you know."

"I get a free hug out of it."

"And more," Vanille giggled, kissing Fang's cheek.

"Sounds tempting."

"Not _that _much more."

"Too bad."

"Can you think of anything else?"

"Why would I want to?" Fang flashed a grin, capturing Vanille's lips.

Fang pressed forwards, hands wandering, fiddling, caressing, removing, touching…

About fifteen minutes later, the two Gran Pulsians left the house, to see everyone still practicing outside. Lightning and Sazh were having some kind of shooting contest, Lightning with the gun on her weapon, and Sazh with his normal guns. Dajh-Sylph and Hope were playing some kind of game, in which Hope would try to hit the Sylph with his boomerang. It didn't go anywhere near Dajh often, but when it did, Dajh protected himself with some kind of magic.

"I've convinced her!" Vanille chirped

"Well done," Lightning nodded a compliment, shooting a target-one created by the Dajh-as she turned away. "Could you please tell me how,? some way to actually control Fang would come in handy."

Fang and Vanille exchanged a glance.

"Trust me, Light," Dajh piped up, ducking under a throw of Hope's boomerang, "You really shouldn't ask," it faced Fang and Vanille, tapping the side of its head, "Sylph had good hearing."

"Should've guessed," Lightning rolled her eyes, "So, ready to restart your training?"

"Nuh-uh," Fang shook her head, "I've said it before, it's useless to duel a human when your target's not a human. Oerban know-how: when hunting gorgonopsids, train on hounds."

"We're hunting the Maker," Lightning shot back, "I don't suppose you have any mini-gods lying around."

"We're hunting the Sylph: you heard what they said, the Maker isn't here yet. The Sylph are our target."

"Right, so we're meant to practice on Sylph?"  
"You got it sunshine."

"It might've escaped your attention, but we only have two, and one of them isn't even here."

"Someone call?" the unnamed Sylph popped into existence just in front of Fang. Lightning rolled her eyes.

The raven haired Gran Pulsian looked at it for a moment, before, irritated, lifting a hand and grabbing all three of its leaves, holding them above its head. The Sylph struggled before slumping, annoyed.

"You tell her," Fang said, speaking quietly, slyly, eyes locked on the Sylph.

"Right," the Sylph stopped struggling, before turning to speak, calm, to Lightning. "There are more Sylph like Dajh and I, all ex-l'Cie, who wish to help. They're coming here, to meet you tomorrow."

"It looks like we've found our training partners," Fang muttered grimly.


	22. Test Run

**Gasp!  
Sorry it's been so long since my last update, and sorry if the ending isn't too well written. College has just started here in the UK, and, just my luck, I'm pretty ill too.  
Hopefully you'll still enjoy this part though!  
Sorry in advance if the next part takes a while. **

"I'm staying here," Vanille nodded, resolute, still grinning, as she sat down on the staircase.

"Why?" Fang stood just above her, amused

"The Sylph are coming in an hour. I don't want to be out there when that happens."

"Why?" Fang frowned, kneeling next to the redhead

"Because I don't."

"Scared?"

"No!" Vanille protested, before softening, "A little…"

"Don't be," Fang lifted Vanille's chin with two fingers, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Thanks Fang," Vanille smiled quietly.

"Any time," the elder Gran Pulsian replied, "And I mean it: any time."

"You'd better still be talking about protecting me," Vanille giggled.

"Maybe," Fang replied shiftily

"So," Vanille chirped

"So?"

"So, do _you _trust the Sylph?"

"As if," Fang laughed, "Things have gone insane. Cocoon is crystal, we changed clothes, got jewellery, centuries have past, and we've got five hundred year old friends who we can't remember. Trust is the last thing on my mind, especially with 'ghosts' on their way."

"Cheer up!" Vanille giggled, "Maybe you'll know some."

"Yeah, right. How many people do we know that became l'Cie?"

"How would you know? They could've changed after."

"Suppose so," Fang shrugged, "I just don't really want to meet any of them."  
"Come on Fang, cheer up for once!"  
"Would you want to meet any of them now? I don't have a clue what's going on, someone else would just make things worse."  
"Fang," Vanille sighed, giggling, shaking her head, "Things are never that simple, you should know that."

"You telling me to think? That's a new one."

"What's that mean, huh?" Vanille leaned very closer to the older Gran Pulsian, grinning.

"Nothing," Fang chuckled, capturing Vanille's lips.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door

"Who's that?" Vanille chirruped, breaking off the kiss, "Sylph?"  
"You kidding? He never knocks."

"He might've learnt," Vanille giggled, blushing a little at the memories.

The redhead hoped up, moving over to the door. She put one hand on the handle and quickly swung it open.

"Hi," Yuj, Maqui and Lebreau were standing in the doorway. Gadot was just behind them, and he'd been the one who'd spoken.

"And you're here, why?" Fang was the first to comment.

"A little bird told us you were going up against the Sylph," Lebreau shrugged, "You really think we'd let you go it alone?"

"A little Sylph actually," Yuj supplied, "Your Sylph."

"Told us one hell of a story," Gadot grunted

"He does that," Vanille chirruped, "What'd he say?"

"Something about Sylph, Dajh and ghosts," Lebreau replied, "I take it you believe him?"

"Mm-hm," Vanille nodded,

"Only thing that makes sense," Fang finished the sentence, "So you want to help?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Maqui replied, laughing a little

"By the way," Vanille mused, "Who are you?"

"Right," Lebreau muttered, almost cursing, "We're NORA. Lightning said she told you about us."

"Prove it," Fang cut in

"Really?" Lebreau replied, half-disbelieving, "You were chatting to us just fine just now."

"That's-" a moment of hesitation, of confusion passed over Fang's face, "That's not the point."

"Right," Lebreau replied, drawn out, sarcastic, "So, you want proof, did Light tell you what our logo was?"

"Uh-huh," Fang nodded

"Good," Lebreau lifted her hand, opening to let a small, silver pendant fall, sparkling in the light. It was a small cat.

"Good enough," Vanille grinned, before poking Fang, "Stop being so suspicious."

"Well said," Yuj cut in before Fang could reply, "Can we come inside now? It's kinda cold out here."

Fang shrugged, stepping back, followed by Vanille, to allow the few NORA members entry into the house.

As they trooped in, Maqui wasted no time in running up to the settee and sitting on it. Lebreau glanced at the Gran Pulsians for permission, and received a shrug in return. Taking it as a yes, Lebreau sat next to Maqui, between him and Yuj, as Gadot sat on a wooden chair just by them. Fang and Vanille sat on a sofa just opposite NORA.

"So, you want to help?" Fang tried to strike up conversation

"`Course," Gadot scoffed,

"You don't mind?" Lebreau murmured

"Us?" Fang's eyes widened a little

"Nuh-uh," Vanille shook her head quickly, "Why would we?"

"It's not our choice though," Fang shrugged, slightly bitter

"Whatcha mean?" Maqui frowned, "The Sylph are following you guys about, I'd say you should have a say."

"Tell that to Thunder," Fang muttered

"Lightning," Vanille corrected, chirping

"Sounds like Thunder," Fang permitted herself a brief chuckle, "She's made herself the boss."

"Sounds like her," Lebreau chuckled, "That's just Lightning, she's-"

"Obsessive, stubborn," Fang interrupted, "and a real pain in the-"

"That's her," Lebreau hastily conceded, "But she's also trustworthy."

"Doesn't mean anything to Fang," Vanille giggled

"I don't know her," Fang sighed, exasperated, "She acts like I do, but I don't."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't trust her," Lebreau muttered, "Believe me, you'd much rather have her with you, rather than against you."

"Not the way she acts."

"Look past that for a moment, will you?" Lebreau rolled her eyes, "You should've been there back when we were first getting settled. The first city we built was in the Adamantoise migration path; didn't stop Light. You know what she did? She triggered a landslide in Mah'habara, diverted the Atomos. Created a whole new valley; one the Adamantoises couldn't cross. She changed the face of Pulse to save us; ok, she's a pain when she gets in control, but there's no better ally."

"I'll take your word for it," Fang dismissed, secretly somewhat impressed.

"Fang!" Vanille groaned, giggling, "Stop being so difficult."

"From what I've heard," Gadot replied, "That's impossible."  
"They definitely know you," Vanille quipped, lightly kissing the Gran Pulsian's cheek.

"Actually," Yuj mumbled, "We barely did, only saw you for a little in Eden."

"You made an impression," Fang murmured, very quiet, before quickly shaking her head, slightly confused, "I'll take your word for it."

"Glad to hear it," Lebreau responded, slightly sarcastic, "Now what?"

"We wait," Vanille chirped

"For what?"

"For the Sylph."

X

"You sure you don't remember?" Lightning stood the other side of the shop counter, several cuddly toys behind her.

Today she wore a fairly loose fitting cloak, but instead of a hood, wore a black wig, the faux hair covering most of her forehead, and her cheeks, curling a little as it fell to her neck. It gave her a little more freedom of movement than a hood, which would probably be worthwhile, not to mention it was less hassle to put on and take off. Hope had lent her the disguise, though she hadn't dared ask why he had the wig.

"No means no," the shopkeeper insisted, hand tightly, frustrated, gripping the counter, "The same as last time."  
"Right," Lightning muttered, lips tightly pressed together, "I guess that's all, you will call if you remember anything else?"

"Sure," the shopkeeper slumped, "Don't count on it though, memory gets worse as tiem goes by, not better."

Lightning nodded, silently turning and leaving the shop. A few steps outside, she got onto her velocycle, shooting away.

The last day, in light of knowing who the Sylph were, she'd redoubled her investigations. She remembered hearing that the Sylph had bought some cuddly doll, and if the Sylph were ghosts, then it stood to reason that maybe, just maybe, the doll bought was the Sylph's identity.

It insisted that it couldn't remember, of course, which didn't completely fit with buying the doll, only from what Lightning had heard, Sylph memory could be very subjective, once they became independent, they sometimes forgot a lot. Even the day old Dajh couldn't quite remember.

Sylph.

Lightning mumbled a curse. She didn't know whether or not to be irritated; they needed training, she knew that as an ex-soldier, but with Sylph? She didn't fully trust 'Dajh' and the other one, now they were dumping a whole supposed Sylph resistance on her?

"Fancy a lift?" a Sylph glimmered into existence balanced on the handlebars of her cycle. She was about to bat it away, before she took note of its voice; deeper, still fairly high-pitched, but nothing like the squeak of the other Sylph.

"And you are?" Lightning spoke softly, keeping her eyes on the creature

"Sira," it gave a mildly hyperactive smile, hopping backwards, grabbing onto the handlebars as it fell past them, before, in less than a second, pulling itself back up. "Couldn't resist meeting you properly."

"Sira?"

"I know, sounds similar huh? It's kinda how I met you, I couldn't remember who I was, then bam, Serah. It struck me once you said that; Hiya, I'm Sira."

"Could you get off my bike now?" Lightning mumbled, irritated, still rocketing on, more than a little distracted by the energetic Sylph

"Okay-dokey, just wanted to see you. Less than half an hour!" it giggled, twirling before vanishing.

"Half an hour," Lightning muttered to herself, still unsure. She was partially dreading that many Sylph, especially if many turned out to be as annoying as that one. But if they were free, then not only would they be good training, but they could well be the best way to help do whatever against the other Sylph. To protect Serah, to protect Fang and Vanille, maybe even make them remember.

Sazh and Hope should be making their own way over to Fang and Vanille, and her leverage in the modern Guardian Corps had allowed her to prevent anyone nearing that house; at least, while they were training, and while Fang and Vanille still couldn't remember. Everything was sorted, yet she still felt a little uneasy.

Lightning pulled the velocycle over to a stop just outside Sazh's house. Next door, she could see a few planks of wood and ash, the once-chocobo-stable. Standing in the ruins was Dajh-Sylph, just on top of Choco.

"I thought I'd fixed it," she could hear the Sylph mumbling, "Sorry Choco, I guess magic didn't hold the stables together."

"Giving up already?" Lightning called, jumping to her feet and running up to the bird and ghost.

"Light?" Dajh turned around, looking across Choco's tail feathers

"It's me," the soldier nodded, striding until she was beside the Sylph, "Aren't you meant to be with the other Sylph?"

"Still a few minutes," he shrugged, "I don't think I can go through with this."

"Then don't." Lightning replied simply.

Dajh span around to face her again, confused.

"Don't think," Lightning elaborated, "Just do. It got us through things before, it'll do so again."

"Stop it!" Dajh half-shouted, "This is not before!" he really did shout that last phrase, before panting, "I've been…waiting five…hundred years…to say that."

"D-"

"Don't!" Dajh spoke quickly, annoyed, "I'm just going to come out and say it, it makes me sick. You've all been bragging about it, being l'Cie, fighting Orphan, Barthendelus, the Fifth Ark, saving Cocoon. That was years ago Lightning; things are _not _the same, stop acting like it."

Lightning turned away for a split second

"Look at me!" Dajh was shaking now, sparks coming off his small frame, voice fluctuating between his human tone and the unnatural squeak of the Sylph, "I'm a Sylph! I died, because your enemies this time wanted to make a point, it takes just one second's thought and any of you could die. I could kill you right now, Lightning," its voice turned to a squeak for the last syllable, "I can feel the power. Flash, I've got you. Flash, you're in a lake, or like me, in the sky."

"You sound-" Lightning stopped, hearing Dajh give a sudden wail, which turned momentarily into a squeak, "You sound bad."

"Bad?" Dajh-Sylph gave a half-insane laugh, voice shuddering, high and low pitched in equal measure, "You like understatements huh? I wasn't a l'Cie when I d-died, guess it means I don't have much immunity."

"Will you be-"

"What the hell do you think?" Dajh shouted, before shivering, "Sorry," he spoke quickly, only slightly muted, "Can't- control- not- human- enough-"

Lightning frowned, before her eyes widened in comprehension. Reacting quickly, she reached out a hand, as if to comfort the shaking Sylph, still gripping onto Choco's back. Lightly, she touched its side. Dajh seemed to curl into her touch. Smiling slightly, Lightning flicked her wrist up, knocking Dajh, sending the Sylph toppling over the side of Choco.

A moment later, Dajh shot up, hovering at eye level with Lightning.

"What was that?" he demanded, partly confused, partly angry

"You're better then?" Lightning didn't phrase it like a question.

"I-" Dajh paused, "Falling? That was how I remembered the first time, guess the shock must've…" his voice trailed off. "Thanks Light."

"It was how you died," the ex-soldier shrugged, "Sounded like it'd trigger a few memories."

"It did," Dajh chuckled, lowering onto Choco, still shaken, "I'm sorry by the way, I didn't mean to say-"

"Was it the truth?"

"I- uh-"

"Then don't worry about it."

"Thanks," Dajh smiled, grateful, "I'll try not to get out of control again."

"What caused that anyway?"

"Sadness," Dajh-Sylph slumped a little, "Look around you."

"The stables?" Lightning frowned, looking at the ash and otherwise blackened remains, "Didn't they get burnt down a while ago?"

"I put them back together, held it up by magic. Well, I did. Fell apart, I couldn't even hold the stable together."

"We can find somewhere else for Choco," Lightning bent her knees until she was level with Dajh

"That's not the point," the Sylph sighed, "I'm supposed to help train you against the creatures who killed me, and I can't even hold one stable together. It's just-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Lightning lifted a hand, resting it on the Sylph's 'head', "You don't like it when I compare the l'Cie incident with now? Then you don't compare the Sylph with these stables, they're very different things. And I can promise you this, Dajh, we _will _do it."

"Thanks Lightning," Dajh smiled softly, sadly.

X

Several minutes later, Lightning, Dajh and Sazh stood on one side of Fang and Vanille's house. The two Gran Pulsians sat just inside the door, waiting. Hope and the nameless Sylph both stood by three velocycles, just in front of the house. They all faced the centre of a large, flat area in front of the house; the area had been turned to bronzed brick in the wake of Dajh's death.

Waiting.

Moments later, there was a twinkle. Then another. Soon, the air in the centre was peppered with momentary flares of light, soon growing into a jungle of Sylph. Sylph after Sylph. Dajh and Sazh recoiled slightly. Fang put her arm around Vanille, pulling the redhead closer. Lightning gripped the hilt of her weapon. Hope and the nameless Sylph just watched, tense.

"You're the only ones?" some indistinct female voice from within the still growing crowd spoke.

"That's us," Sazh shouted, staring up into the huge sphere.

"Better than nothing," another female voice murmured, as the resisting Sylph stopped appearing.

As it stood, it seemed there were a hundred or so of them; nothing compared to the billions of other Sylph, but an encouraging amount none the less. They were decidedly less graceful than their controlled counterparts, no doubt because they weren't linked. One huge sphere contained them all, just one metre off the ground, still.

"I remember you!" a more male voice cried out, a Sylph breaking out of formation to descend to Lightning

"You don't look familiar," Lightning remarked dryly

"You don't know how right you are," it chuckled, "Thank you. You killed me."

Lightning stepped back, on guard, slightly confused as to why it sounded genuinely grateful.

"I was a Cie'th," it quickly continued, "At Orphan's Cradle. Thank you for freeing me from that curse."

"Fine," Lightning kept a hand on her blade, though her grip loosened.

Now that lone ex-Cie'th/l'Cie had broken the ice, the tight formation of the Sylph dissolved, the ghosts falling into a smoother pattern, closer to the ground, some sitting down, the rest in one layer a metre or so above, flying around.

"Down to business," a gender-neutral, stricter Sylph voice announced, rising above the rest. He/she looked around, before speaking, "Do you really think you can face the whole Sylph?"

"We can try," Lightning shouted a reply

"Really?" the gender-neutral Sylph paused, looking down at eth pink haired woman. It vanished. Lightning felt a slight tug at her side, but before she could respond, the Sylph had appeared, and vanished again, taking her sword. An instant later, the Blazefire Saber was at her throat, the Sylph holding it close.

"Not good enough," he/she spoke quickly. "If you think you can even get to Orphan's Cradle, you're deluded."

"The Sylph aren't trying to kill us," Lightning retorted, brave considering the cold metal pressing against her neck, "They've had too many chances. They'd have done it before if they wanted to."

"Ha!" the gender-neutral Sylph chuckled, "Do you really want to know why you're still alive? The Sylph are indecisive, that's all. They rely on the Maker for all original thought, and She isn't that concerned with you. You might make a good Ragnarok if you were branded, but that's all. The Sylph are controlled by an echo of an echo, of a mere fragment of the Maker, a few closer than others. You're only alive because as soon as the Sylph leave Cocoon they forget what they wanted to do."

"That'll be how we fight then," Lightning replied, "Play on their weakness."

"Which is?"

"Overconfidence," Lightning punctuated the statement with a flourish of her chin, knocking the blade down, out of the Sylph's grasp, where she grabbed it with one hand, and grabbed the Sylph with the other. In one fluid movement, she pressed the blade to the Sylph.

"This could be interesting after all," the gender-neutral Sylph conceded, vanishing with a flash, reappearing on top of Lightning's clenched fist.

"Count on it," Lightning shot back, twirling her hand, catching the Sylph by surprise and batting it through the air.

The two engaged in an impromptu duel. Lightning keeping on the move, unpredictable, to stop the Sylph grabbing her, while the gender-neutral Sylph darted around, staring to enjoy himself/herself as it hopped through the air, narrowly avoiding a few strikes.

"We've got two hours," another, female, Sylph announced, "Ferah, one of us, is keeping all the Sylph in this area on their toes, running `em ragged. He can keep them distracted for a couple of hours, then we're all going."

"Got it," Lightning still found time to reply, amidst an impressive acrobatic display of leaping into the air, vaulting off her sword, and narrowly missing the gender-neutral Sylph with her free hand.

"Who'd ya think'll win?" Vanille giggled, watching the duo fight

"Lightning, hands down," Fang replied, half-reluctant, "She's a good fighter."

"I reckon it'll be the Sylph," the redhead thoughtfully replied, "It's quick and bouncy."

"Like you," Fang chuckled, "What's the winner get?"

"A sheep!"

"A _sheep?_"

"They're cuddly!" Vanille giggled, "How about, the loser has to obey the winner once?"

"Ok," Fang nodded, smiling slyly.

A few moments later, the gender-neutral Sylph reacted too quickly to Lightning's strike, being hit by the blade, and warping away with it. A flash later, and Lightning had the blade to her neck. The Sylph was panting.

"I win," Vanille giggled. The redhead hopped up, leading Fang away into a more secluded room, claiming her prize.


	23. Finding The Truth

**Here's the next chapter! Things will hopefully calm down soon, but at the moment, Sylph are important.  
One more note before the story gets underway: you hear about soundtracks for some writers on here. I've got my own, but for this chapter, especially the bits dwelling more on the Sylph I must make a mention of Inkubus Sukkubus, and their song Supernature, which i am indebted to as it helped create the perfect mood.  
Anyway, with the acknowledgements aside, on with the story! **

Over an hour later, after most have them had trained for a great deal of time, Fang, Hope and Vanille sat off the side, watching Sazh and Lightning duel with several flocks of Sylph, the practise visibly paying off.

It turned out, Fang and Vanille were the best fighters, against the Sylph at least. Vanille's binding rod could knock several Sylph down before they could react, and Fang's spear, if she kept a thumb on the catch with split it into its three sections, kept any Sylph attempting to steal it highly off balance.

NORA had left the house a few minutes into practise, joining in quite quickly. Gadot especially seemed to be enjoying himself.

"I remember you!" one of the Sylph split off from the main throng, "The Chosen?"

"And you are?" Fang looked up, frowning

"You met me at Taejin's Tower," the Sylph replied, speaking in a female voice, "Soon after you left Oerba, you said."

"Vanille!" Fang exclaimed, grinning as the Sylph landed in her lap.

Hope shot her a puzzled look.

"It's a common name," Fang shrugged in response, before turning back to Vanille-2-the-Sylph, "So, you became l'Cie?"

"Afraid so," Vanille-Sylph sighed, "Dahaka got me, then I-" she seemed to blush, "I fell out of the tower. Cie'th pushed me."

"That's unlucky," Fang bit back a chuckle, "I'm surprised you let it get that close."

"Not my fault," Vanille-2 protested, "It was just outside the lift, as soon as I got out, it got me. Pushed me back, fell off. Not something I recommend you try."

"Wasn't planning on it," Fang lifted her now-Sylph old friend up with a hand, "Hey, weren't you the one who sparred with me just now?"  
"Nah, that was sparkly."

"Sparkly?" Vanille interjected, chirping

"She can't remember who she is," Vanille-2 explained, "But when she warps, she sparkles a bit more than the rest of us; we all flash different amounts, she just flashes a bit more. We get names from traits like that, when we can't remember, they called me lanky before."

"Do I want to ask?" Vanille giggled

"I'm just a little taller," Vanille-2 twirled back, stretching her thin frame, appearing a few centimetres taller than the other Sylph. "Most Sylph are identical, but only if you don't know what you're looking for. Your friend Dajh has big leaves, I'm stretchy, your other Sylph, ought to come up with a nickname for him, has slightly darker leaves-"

"We get it," Fang interrupted, "You always could go on."

"Thanks," Vanille-2 replied sardonically. She paused, before frowning, "Back in a second," she announced, before twinkling away, reappearing over by Sazh.

"And who was that?" Hope piped up, looking at the two Gran Pulsians

"Vanille," Vanille chirped, "We met her once we were branded."

"Why's she called Vanille?"

"I said," Fang muttered, "It's a common name. We met five Vanille's."

"Me," the redhead chirped, "And her," she pointed over at the Sylph

"Not to mention a toddler, an old l'Cie, passed through Oerba when we were just kids, and, ah," Fang muttered the last syllable, irritated, not quite able to remember

"That one with the horns," the redheaded Vanille added, giggling

"Yeah," Fang nodded, "Carried around a pair of horns. But I think the best Vanille's right here," she pulled the redhead closer. Vanille giggled, kissing Fang in return.

The trio paused, nothing else to say. They looked out over the training mass of people; Vanille-2 and Sazh were discussing something. As a minute ticked by, the Sylph sat on the barrel of Sazh's gun. She lowered a leaf over the edge.

She nodded up at Sazh, who focused, and pulled the trigger. As a bullet shot out of the weapon, the Sylph reacted startlingly quickly, grimacing, leaf twinkling over the front of the barrel. The bullet vanished, reappearing some distance away, digging into the bark of a tree from mere millimetres in front of it.

"That is impressive," Hope commented, watching the distant duo congratulate each other

"Yeah," Fang nodded slowly, appreciative, "I'd like to see a Sylph dodge that."

"Stop talking about the Sylph!" Vanille interrupted

"We can hardly ignore them," Fang pointed out

"I know…" the redhead sighed, "But it'd be nice to forget about them for once, we never get a break. Ragnarok to the Sylph…"

"How about we get rid of them, then never mention them again?"

"Sure," Vanille brightened.

They relaxed again, looking out over the group. Sazh and Vanille-2 were working together again, the Sylph warping bullets much closer to targets that would be impossible to hit otherwise, including some behind Sazh.

Another crack echoed as Sazh shot once more. This time, Vanille-2 vanished with a flash also. Fang counted down the seconds, out of the corner of her eye watching Lightning relentlessly sparring with dozens of Sylph. As Fang counted to eight, the bullet reappeared, still going alarmingly fast, piercing the air, until it buried itself in the stone ground.

"Go!" a new, male, youngish Sylph voice sounded. Everyone looked up to see another Sylph, weary, appear in the air.

"Ferah?" the gender-neutral Sylph who'd spoken at the beginning of the training session rose up, past the stilled, panting, Lightning, "You've stopped distracting the Sylph?"

"They've stopped following me," Ferah replied, "We have to flee. Can't risk making them suspicious."

"Right. Same time tomorrow, everyone," the Sylph looked around, inclining his/her head respectfully to Lightning. A moment later, he'd/she'd vanished. Inhaling, Ferah too vanished.

"Farewell," there was a hasty assent from the rest of the Sylph resistance, before a cloud of light passed through them, a twinkling fog as each gradually left.

Dajh and the nameless native Sylph remained, looking around. Quickly, each ran towards someone, Dajh towards Sazh, and the nameless Sylph towards Lightning. Hope ran up to Lightning also. NORA quickly darted over to Sazh. There was a flash, and NORA, Dajh and Sazh vanished. A moment later, the nameless Sylph, Lightning and Hope left too.

Fang and Vanille slowly got to their feet, hesitantly moving forwards. It wasn't like they expected a Sylph to come running, but there was no harm in being careful.

"That was quick," Vanille commented, squeaking

"Mm," Fang nodded, following the redhead into the house.

The women sat down in the room, a little tired from the strenuous training a while ago. Vanille curled up into Fang, one arm thrown across the older Gran Pulsian as Fang gently breathed over Vanille's scented red hair.

Five lights appeared in the air. Fang's eyes snapped open, locking onto the light as a ring of five Sylph appeared. It took her a moment to remember them; they were the circle who'd spoken to her before, before the funeral.

"We have returned," the circle spoke in unison, "Do we have an answer?"

"We haven't been thinking about it," Fang retorted, tense. Last time, she had just her instinctive fear of the unknown creatures; now she knew what she was talking to, and she honestly couldn't tell which was worse.

"Have the deceivers spoken to you?" the ring again chimed

"Naturally, they were our friends."

"You have fallen for their lies."

"Either they're telling the truth, and we are friends, or they're lying, so we should act like they're telling the truth."

"I see crystal has not dulled your intellect."

"It's just instinct, comes hand in hand with Gran Pulse."

"Indeed."

"So what did you want us to do, anyway?"

"We need guidance," the ring admitted, almost reluctant, "The time is now, you must free the citizens of Pulse."

"The…" Fang paused for a moment, "You said that last time, we needed to become Ragnarok, kill a lot of people."

"Regretfully so. It is the only way to make the offering to Etro."

"How?" Vanille spoke this time

"We Sylph will endeavour to guide you. So many of us are uncontrolled, unable to concentrate; we five were touched, blessed by Hallowed Pulse, Maker of us all. We must carry out her will; and She wishes for you to offer lives to Etro."

"When?" Fang asked

"Now."

"Come again?" Fang, for once, stumbled over the words.

"Now. It has been too long: another rules over us, claiming divine right, chosen by our Goddess. We must free Pulse to remedy this."

"You know that really does not make a bit of sense."

"Gran Pulse shall rule over us; we are but servants. In the present, we need Ragnarok, whom we shall guide, to free Pulse." The ring stopped spinning, freezing on the spot, the five Sylph moving slightly further from each other.

"What say ye?" it spoke again, the voice somehow sounding more childlike, "Yes or no?"

"I'd have to say…" Fang paused, as if thinking, her hand instead gripping the hilt of her spear. Vanille was also gripping her weapon, the two working in tandem as they had so many times before, relying on their affinity.

"No!" Fang shouted, lashing out with a spear.

This was nothing like the light sparring of before, this was war, live or die, survive or fall.

Her spearhead pierced a light, all five Sylph vanishing, despite the fact the attack had only been on one. Vanille threw the ropes out of her binding rod, completely missing the ring as it reappeared some metres away.

"A pity," the circle murmured, "You have once more been corrupted."

The circle flashed, appearing closer. Fang and Vanille leapt apart, reluctantly leaving each others' touch. They both attacked the same, now-empty, spot of air.

"I did not wish this," the ring of Sylph spoke again, twinkling back into sight just over the duo. It emitted a pulse of light, knocking the two Gran Pulsians to the floor. "We needed you."

"Yeah, to bring back your Maker," Fang scoffed, pulling herself back onto her feet, "No thanks."

"Not just our Maker: your Maker also. The Goddess of all."

Vanille replied this time, by whipping her rod forward. The beads utterly missed the ring, instead being lightly touched by one leaf, and being warped out of her grasp. She didn't see it reappear.

"Pitiful," the five Sylph murmured, scornful.

"I really," Fang began, rushing forwards, "Don't," she leapt, lightning fast, and yet easy for the Sylph to dodge, flashing and reappearing behind Fang.

"Care!" Fang finished with a shout, releasing the catch on her spear, letting the three segments of it whirl, spinning it until the side of the spear struck one of the Sylph.

It didn't even flinch. Instead, each of them blinked. Fang's eyes widened as the spear had suddenly been wrenched from her grasp with a flash of light. She heard a distant clatter on the roof. Was that where her spear had ended up?

"Is that all?" the Sylph spoke, almost mocking, voice neutral, dispassionate. The upper of the five touched the ceiling, looking down at the standing Gran Pulsians. A bolt of red light shot out from it, enveloping the duo. In the next second, they were brought up into the air, a few centimetres above the ground, supported by a reddish sphere.

"Ragnarok," the circle whispered, reverent. Each of them blinked, and lightning seemed to course through the spheres. The Gran Pulsians screamed.

Several seconds later, the pain lessened. A pale gaseous magic wafted over to each of them, both of them facing each other, metres apart. The gas cured them a little, in preparation for another bout of agony.

"Learn some new tricks," Fang sneered, trying to keep brave for Vanille. She didn't quite know where her words came from, they just sounded fitting.

"Orphan is one with us," the circle replied, "It almost worked before. It shall do so again. You will become Ragnarok and by the Sylph's hand shall you be guided, to those places worthy of death. She shall return!"

More lightning shot through the two women. Fang tried to tense, brace herself, anything to not show her pain, to stay strong for Vanille. But even the hardened warrior couldn't keep her scream muffled.

After almost half a minute of pure pain, Fangs lumped forwards, breathing heavily. Still resisting, as the refreshing cure was over her, she lifted her head, smiling at Vanille. The redhead nervously smiled back. Fang blew a kiss, before both began to scream again.

"Not again," a human, male voice spoke. Vanille peered sideways in a brief respite from the pain, to see that their native, nameless Sylph had appeared. He hovered closer, eyes locked on the steadily rotating five Sylph.

"Really?" the circle seemed unimpressed. They each flexed their leaves in an identical manner, before the two Gran Pulsians either side of it screamed in agony once more.

The nameless Sylph shrunk back, tense, eyes screwed shut. "Not again," it said, though it wasn't clear whether that was a plea or a statement.

The nameless Sylph looked up, something bordering on understanding in its eyes. A pale curative magic washed over Fang and Vanille, and the ring prepared itself, about to flex, to cause another bolt of pain. As its leaves rippled, the nameless Sylph gritted its teeth, trying to interrupt the spell. The ring of five looked down on the Sylph, reluctantly impressed.

"Ex-l'Cie," the circle murmured, slow, "Serve us once more."

"No," their Sylph seemed almost serene now. It lifted its three leaves, starting to shimmer, "I shall not," it began to speak again, light shining, emanating from the air around it. "Be." An indistinct form seemed to condense around it, formed solely of light and mist. "Your puppet." The Sylph opened its eyes, barely visible in the light. It finished its sentence, calm, a resolute rebellion in its words, "Any more."

The creature around it leapt; it was like a dragon, composed only of mist and light. An echo of an Eidolon almost; a creature summoned, a creature of mist. None of its features were obvious, though, as it shot through the air, Fang and Vanille noticed a few objects. Its eyes were completely flat, its eyelids composed only of fog. The once-Eidolon was a long serpentine creature; a long, metre-thick tail, several dozens of metres long, with a reptilian maw, no teeth, just a seething mass of light and mist as the dragon spiralled forwards.

The circle of five Sylph barely had enough time to look at it. The echo of an Eidolon moved straight from the nameless Sylph, straight to the ring, mouth wide. The mist creature didn't touch either of the Gran Pulsians as they fell out of their magical prisons, instead it seemed to move into itself, tail shrinking, mist billowing out of its moth as it engulfed the circle. Moments later, a sphere of impenetrable fog hovered in the air, around the ring, the rest of the air crystal clear.

Flashes of light burst out of the once-Eidolon, but the spirit creature seemed unfazed. While no face was visible, a feeling of slightly smug victory emanated from the creature, as it seemingly kept the ring of five imprisoned.

"Can I say 'wow'?" Vanille eventually squeaked, the first to regain her senses after the torture. Her face was bathed in the pulsating lights coming out of the mist.

"If you want," their Sylph replied. It was, understandably, tired, lowering itself, until it slumped on the floor.

"What-what _was _that?" Fang stumbled over her words

"An Eidolon," the nameless Sylph responded, "Mine. I was once l'Cie; my despair at seeing you two held in that way was enough to call the messenger." It turned to Fang, "I knew you before."

"Doesn't everyone?" Fang retorted, partly chuckling, partly annoyed.

"Does that mean you remember now?" Vanille chirped

"It would seem so," the Sylph replied, "Though my name would mean little to you, your memories as they are."

The instant he finished that phrase, there was a sudden, much brighter, spark from the mist. A silhouette was visible within the fog; the five Sylph, closer together than before, each touching.

Projected by light onto the mist, the Gran Pulsians and Sylph outside could see the shadows within and their fate. As the lights shone brighter, the Sylph started to fade, dissolve. The two at the bottom turned to powder, sandy shadows whirling along the mist as the seeming wave of dust rolled through the circle. Thirty seconds later, there was just one Sylph; the one who used to be at the top of the circle. As they watched, it turned to dust, and the light dimmed.

The swirl of mist spread, moving into a more recognizable shape. It took the form of the serpentine dragon, much smaller than before, barely a metre from head to tail, and it was slightly curled up at that moment.

It opened its mouth, giving what could only really be equated to a purr, though it had a worrisome edge to it. Black dust fell out of its mouth, as the echo-Eidolon faded away, mist to air.

"You know what worries me," Fang tried to strike up a new conversation, "That ring said there was someone ruling over the Sylph."

"It is probably lying," the once-nameless Sylph replied, thought it sounded unsure

"I hope so."

The dust that had once been Sylph was picked up, off the floor, by a faint breeze. It was almost indistinguishable from any other dust, indeed, to look at it you wouldn't expect it to have caused so much pain.

"The first Sylph to die," their native Sylph mused, quiet, "By my hand."

"I won't complain if you won't," Vanille instantly lightened the mood, as she almost always did, every time she spoke.

"Mm," the Sylph sounded wistful

"You gonna tell you who you are now?" Fang eventually echoed hers and Vanille's thoughts

"You most likely would not recognize the name," it replied

"We'll be the judge of that," Fang rolled her eyes, curiosity burning, "Besides, Light told us the story, if you were in that, we'd know."

"Right!" Vanille chirped.

"Very well," sighed the Sylph, "I was once the man known as Cid Raines."

"Him," Fang nodded slowly, closing her eyes, a flash of repressed memory overtaking her. A man with short, black hair, as he started to shine, one of his arms appearing like a Cie'th.

"It's going to be fun telling Lightning," the Sylph of Cid Raines spoke, "We never got on too well."

"Remind her you saved us, then," Fang advised, "She needs to be taken down a peg or two. You took care of five Sylph, which is a hell of a lot more than anything she's done."

"Right," Raines nodded, vanishing with a twinkle, presumably to tell Lightning.

"You know something Fang?" Vanille chirped

"What?"

"Remember those old stories about Eidolons? Messengers?"

"Messengers of Etro, yeah," the raven haired woman nodded

"Do you think she sent the Eidolon?"

"She sends them all, if you believe the tales."

"Fang!" Vanille insisted, "I'm serious."

"Makes a change."

"How do you think Etro feels? She greets the souls of the dead, and they're being stolen away."

"You think she's on our side?" Fang seemed surprised

"Something's got to go right!" Vanille giggled.

She couldn't tell if she truly believed the idea or not, but the idea of being aided by a Goddess was, if nothing else, comforting.


	24. Return

**I don't think this is my best chapter, recovering from a really annoying cold, but anyway, here's the next chapter!  
We're almost at the end of Awakening, I'm sorry to say, I've enjoyed writing this. There's still a fair bit to go, but I'm hoping for a quieter next chapter, possibly two, before the main finale builds up. Until then, review and enjoy!  
This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but hopefully not much less interesting. **

Serah laughed, running a little further down the pavement. A few moments later, Snow caught up to her, sweeping her up in a tight embrace.

"Hard to believe our second honeymoon's over," Snow muttered, pulling Serah closer

"Can we do it again?" she laughed, wrapping her arms tighter around the man's neck.

"Sometime," Snow promised, "But we have to go back now; how'd you think Lightning's holding up without us?"

"Without you?" Serah lightly pushed Snow, "She's probably happy," his wife giggled, "I just hope she's ok, after the first day."

"The lights in the air," Snow muttered to himself, "Don't worry about it, they vanished quickly."

"I guess." Serah seemed slightly depressed, mostly from the feeling of not knowing.

"Found you!" their Sylph friend appeared in the air just in front of them; the same Sylph who'd brought them there.

"Your voice is different," Serah commented, hearing the deeper, more human tones of the Sylph, once known as Cid.

"A lot has changed," it replied, "Right from the day you left."

"The lights," Serah spoke up, "What happened then anyway? Snow told me what they meant, but why were they there?"

"Lightning lost her temper," Cid-Sylph remarked dryly

"That was enough to summon the Maker?" Snow exclaimed, before pausing, "Not surprising.

"It's a long story," the Sylph sighed, "We'll explain it all when you get back."

The Sylph lowered down a little, holding out two leaves in a human-like gesture. Serah lightly held one leaf, while Snow grabbed the leaf within his fist. The Sylph smiled, flashed, and was gone, taking the married couple with him.

X

"The hero's coming back," Gadot punched his own palm, "About time."

"We could do with his help," Maqui piped up, lifting his feet onto the chair in front of that.

"Enough of that!" Lebreau pointed at the youth's feet, "This is my bar, no putting your feet on the furniture."

"My bad," Maqui hastily amended, putting his feet back on the floor.

NORA sat in Lebreau's bar, a couple tentatively sipping unknown drinks. If they had their way, they'd be waiting to see Snow and Serah the instant they got back, but according to Lightning, things were too complicated. Only the ex-Cid Raines and Lightning were talking to them, explaining the new situation.

They weren't sure what everyone else was doing. Fang and Vanille were probably with Dajh and Choco, no doubt due to the redhead's love of all things yellow and feathery, Sazh was probably with them. Well, either that or some were hanging out with the Sylph; a couple seemed to have made some friends. Lightning with the gender-neutral Sylph, who it seemed was pretty gender neutral as he/she, apart from having the voice, couldn't remember whether it was a he or she. Sazh was friends with Vanille-2, and the two Gran Pulsians knew a fair few of the Sylph, and a few of the Sylph recognized them. Hope was quite close to a Sylph calling itself an ex-fal'Cie, a Sylph claiming the name of a species only Vanille and Fang could recognize.

"Do you think Snow's gonna believe it?" Yuj tried to strike up a discussion.

"I hope so," Maqui shrugged, "If he doesn't, then what?"

"We kill him and make him come back as a Sylph," Gadot suggested

"That'll solve things," Lebreau laughed, refilling Gadot's lass with a sparkling golden liquid, "Though can I suggest we trying something else before moving onto such extreme measures?"

"`Course," Gadot gulped down his refilled drink, "It's the Pulsians that're worrying me though, more people for them to get used to."

"They're tough," Maqui interjected, "They'll survive."

"If they want to," Yuj added, "I doubt they'll welcome more strangers."

"Won't really be strangers," Maqui shrugged, "I'm telling you, they remembered us."

"Not consciously," Yuj responded, "Might trust us, but I don't know if they actually remember."

"We can hope," Lebreau sighed, claiming her own seat just next to the rest of NORA.

"I'll drink to that," Maqui lifted his glass, putting on a strong slur, which was quite impressive considering he'd ordered a non-alcoholic drink.

"Cheers," Yuj smiled, clinking glasses with the pale blonde boy.

NORA sipped their drinks in relative silence, waiting more than anything. They couldn't exactly burst in on Snow/Serah with the delicate nature of kind-of-first introductions with Fang and Vanille. Instead they were apparently waiting for someone to come get them.

Bored, Lebreau reached out, flicking a stereo. The middle of a song on some radio station burst into life, echoing in the room. Making an expression of distaste, Lebreau flicked the stereo off, "Is that really what passes for music now?" she muttered to herself.

Several minutes later, a woman with black and redhead peered around the door to the bar. Noticing everyone was inside, she skipped in.

"Hey Asura!" Yuj waved

"Hi," she replied, "Hope's calling you guys."

"About time," Gadot pulled himself to his feet, flexing his arms, "Lead the way."

X

On the upper floor of Fang and Vanille's house, a few minutes earlier, Vanille lay back, grinning as always, on the bed, while Fang paced the length of the room.

"More people," she muttered to herself, "Always more people."

"They could be nice," Vanille chirped hopefully, ever-optimistic, "The rest of them seem to be."

"Maybe," Fang conceded, stopping her pacing. "If we ever meet them."

"We will," Vanille giggled hopping up and knocking Fang back a couple of steps with a hug

"What've I done to deserve this?" Fang chuckled, lightly stroking the tips of the redhead's locks

"A lot," Vanille murmured, snuggling into Fang. Fang opened her mouth to say something, but Vanille silenced her with one finger, kissing the raven haired woman's neck. "You've got to be quiet," Vanille whispered, "They're just downstairs."

"They are, aren't they?" Fang murmured quietly, smiling.

Half reluctantly, she prized herself from Vanille's grasp, taking a quiet step over to the door. Kneeling down, silent with the practised air of a Pulsian hunter, she pushed the door open very slightly. Voices wafted up from downstairs.

"Claire," one exasperated female voice sighed, "We're gone for two weeks and look what you do!"

"Who's Claire?" Vanille whispered

"Don't know," Fang replied, before peering again out the door slightly. She caught sight of the staircase, and a few people just visible through a doorway and the banisters.

"Tell me you're kidding," a male voice spoke now, sounding a bit more serious than the woman's jibe.

"I wish I were," Lightning's voice replied, "You've already met Cid and Dajh."

"The Sylph I understand," Snow interrupted, "They always seemed a bit odd, but Fang and Vanille?"

"I thought things were going well," the woman who'd first spoken, not Lightning, spoke again, "They didn't deserve this."

"Does anyone?" Lightning murmured softly, behaving kinder towards the new woman than Fang had seen her before.

"Feel up to meeting them?" Lightning spoke again, voice still calm, but with an edge to it.

"Sure, why not," the man's voice came through, "Serah?"

"Sure," the woman's voice squeaked.

Fang could just see Lightning nod, before the Gran Pulsian watched the ex-soldier turn around. Fang backed away as Lightning approached the room, taking care to shut the door and pin Vanille on the bed.

Lightning entered the room to see the two Gran Pulsians, lips locked. She rolled her eyes, before pointedly knocking on the doorframe.

Fang gently pulled away, Vanille struggling to chase the raven haired woman's lips. After a slight tussle, the two Gran Pulsians looked over at Lightning.

"They're waiting for you downstairs," the pink haired woman muttered curtly, before sharply turning and descending back to the two newcomers.

Shrugging, Vanille and Fang went down the stairs, Vanille hopping, Fang trudging. In the room just to the right of the staircase, stood a tallish, muscled man with blonde hair, and a slender woman with pink hair and a sideways ponytail holding onto his arm.

"This is Serah, and Snow," Lightning introduced the strangers.

Vanille frowned, tilting her head as she looked at them. Her gaze hovered over Serah, some sense of recognition stirring, though, shrugging, she pushed that aside.

"Um…hi," Serah waved shyly, as if she was talking to a child. The couple seemed unsure.

"Hi!" Vanille squealed, "So you're the one Lightning goes on about."

"I don't," the pink haired soldier interrupted

"Oh, you do," Vanille giggled, turning back to Serah, "This whole week she's been talking about you."

"Always worrying," Serah sighed, "You don't have to, Claire."

"Who's Claire?" Fang interjected, frowning, before looking at a slightly embarrassed Lightning, "You're kidding," the Gran Pulsian added

"I know," Snow said, "Hard to believe the soldier girl has a cute little name like Claire."

"Don't ever say that again," Lightning span around, eyes blazing at Snow. "I mean it. Ever."

The one-sided strangers had somehow fallen into a forgotten routine. A chuckle spread through them, feeling at ease despite having no conscious memories.

"You two were honeymooning, huh?" Fang commented

"Yeah," Snow nodded, "Again."

"The same day we lost our memories?"

"Yeah," Snow frowned, "Where's this going?"

"I'm impressed," Fang nodded slowly, raising her eyebrows, "Sounds like strong-"

"Don't say it," Snow interrupted as Serah flushed, "I'd forgotten how bad you could be."

"They definitely know you," Vanille giggled.

"I know," Fang sighed, "It's a pain, can't a girl get any jokes in nowadays?"

"Not you," Serah laughed, "I only knew you a few weeks and I know to be careful with what I say when you're around."

"Encouraging," Fang chuckled

"Incorrigible's more like it," Snow shot back.

Around then, someone knocked on the door. A few seconds later, NORA trouped in; Asura had left them at some point on the way there. She'd mentioned something about coordinating with the Sylph resistance, along with Hope.

"Good to have ya back," Gadot was the first to speak to the group's leader, "Same for you Mrs hero."

"It's good to be back," Snow replied, before frowning as he saw Cid-Sylph perched on the outside of a window, "I think."

"The Sylph?" Yuj said, "Don't worry about them, they're not that bad."

"Not what we've been told,"

"You know Lightning," Maqui chuckled, "Always going over the top, especially where Serah's concerned."

"I'm a realist," Lightning shot back, "More than I can say for you."

"Can we please not have another debate," Lebreau groaned, "The last one was bad enough, my hearing wasn't right for weeks after."

"Call her thunder," Fang interjected, "It fits better than Lightning."

"You sure you lost your memories?" Yuj chuckled, "You know her a bit too well."

"Watch it," Lightning scowled, warning, before catching sight of Serah's lightly giggling face. The pink haired ex-soldier's expression softened.

"In the interests of not being killed by my sister-in-law," Snow hastily interrupted, "Where's Dajh?"

"Here!" the Dajh-Sylph appeared with a flash. He was grinning.

Serah and Snow recoiled slightly, taken aback by Dajh's voice floating so easily from the creature's mouth. Smiling sadly, Sazh's son hovered over to Serah.

"Hope you enjoyed your holiday. Did you see the statues there? I helped design them." Dajh murmured, trying to put the couple at ease

"Oh yeah," Snow nodded, "I remember, the chocobos!" Snow turned to Fang and Vanille, who were looking at him, confused, "Place used to be a chocobo breeding ground," Snow explained, "Then people moved in. Dajh, or Katz rather, convinced them to build a memorial to the birds."

"I like chocobos!" Vanille giggled, hopping.

"Is that really all you heard?" Fang chuckled, pressing her lips to the redhead's hair.

"Why would I want to hear more?" Vanille giggled, "Chocobos are cute!"

"She has a point," Dajh quickly interrupted, "What's not to like?"

"You love chocobos huh?" Fang commented

"What's wrong with that?" Vanille pouted, hands on her hips, though she was still grinning

"He's not as cute as you," Fang chuckled

"You're forgiven!" Vanille chirped, literally bouncing over to Fang and lightly pecking her lips in a very chocobo-like manner.

"Thanks," Fang murmured, quiet, husky, leaning forward again to meet lips with Vanille once more.

Snow coughed awkwardly, watching the duo press against each other for another second, before reluctantly breaking apart.

"So what are we going to do about the Sylph?" Snow eventually asked the question, "I don't think 'some things we just do' is gonna cut it this time, sis."

"True," Lightning conceded, "But this time we have friends. If everything works, we won't have any Sylph to worry about."

"What'll we do once we get there?" Serah interjected

"We?" Lightning met her sister's eyes

"Yes, we. I'm not sitting out this time."

"Serah, we will do it. You can stay safe."

"Nuh-uh," the ex-Farron shook her head, "You spend so much time trying to protect me, can't I return the favour? You're getting old Claire; ten years more than me."

"S-"

"You think I'm going to be any safer here, with all these Sylph? From what you've told me it doesn't sound like you can actually escape them."

"It'll be safer than Orphan's Cradle."

"You said there'd be no Sylph there."

"Only if everything works; and I don't trust any Sylph, even the resistance. There could be hordes of them, the Maker Herself could even be there."

"Then you can protect me personally," Serah didn't blink, didn't move her eyes from staring into Lightning's, "Are Fang and Vanille going?"  
"You betcha," Fang interrupted

"Then why can't I?" Serah looked at Lightning, "You spent centuries trying to help them, if it was so dangerous would you let them go?"

"That's different!" Lightning protested

"Is it? Why?"

"They're trained, they're-"

"Then train me," Serah let her hands fall openly to her sides, "I'm not going to let you go off again."

"My advice," Snow interjected, "Give up sis, Serah can be more stubborn than you when she gets the chance."

"Don't I know it," Lightning rolled her eyes, "Alright, fine. On the condition you stay behind me."

"Don't say it Fang," Serah quickly added, before replying, "Thanks Claire."

"Can you answer her question?" Fang stepped forwards, hand linked with Vanille's, "I don't know this either; what're we actually going to do when we get there."

"It's simple," Cid the Sylph drifted into he centre of the group, "Something is keeping the Maker near, a doorstop if you will, keeping the door of souls open. Remove that, you seal the door and banish the Maker."

"What is?" Vanille chirruped

"I do not know," Cid owed his head, "That has been the mission of I and many of the other Sylph for the past years: to enter the Cradle, unseen, and escape, alive, able to get far enough to inform the others of what binds the Maker to life. As yet, none have achieved it: but when there are no Sylph in the Cradle, you can enter. Find and remove that which calls Her."

"And then the Maker goes," Fang surmised

"And then the Maker goes," Cid nodded

"And not just Her," Dajh murmured

"Huh?" Vanille sang, looking down at the other Sylph, as it steadily rose up.

"This is going to make things harder," Dajh spoke slowly, regretfully, "But I think we should tell you now."

"No," Cid spoke calmly, eyes meeting Dajh's, "Later, when they cannot turn back. We cannot burden them with the knowledge now."

"We must," Dajh bowed his head, "If the Maker is forced away, the door or souls shall slam shut. Death will be locked away unless you actually have to go there."

Lightning's eyes widened, her trained perception picking up what the Sylph meant.

"Dad's out with Choco, I'll have to tell him this later," Dajh continued, quiet, "When the door of souls is sealed, the Maker will leave this world; along with all her puppets, her hands, her ears and eyes in the world. Her influence will fade with her."

"When the Maker dies," Cid finished, "The Sylph too shall die. Her slaves, and we."

Silence greeted this latest announcement.

"No," Lightning eventually murmured, "We have to do something."

"Not even you could Lightning," Cid murmured, "I have cheated death twice before, a third time would be unlikely."

"I wasn't talking about you," Lightning snapped, "Sazh couldn't lose Dajh again."

"I wish there was another way," Dajh sighed, "I really do. But this time, there's no handy escape card. No Ragnarok, no l'Cie miracles. Just the Maker, and us. You either live with Her, the Sylph, and us, or without us, and without the Maker and Sylph. No in betweens."

"Not only that," Cid murmured

"More?" Vanille slumped

"Dajh told you the beginning, I might as well finish the job," Cid lowered a little way,

"I'm sorry," Dajh whispered, falling to the floor and sitting there.

"When the door of souls is sealed, so will all in it be," Cid spoke again, almost regretful, "Fang and Vanille lost their memories to the Sylph; those thoughts now lie within the Sylph, and so, within death."

Most people had figured out what he meant, but Cid just looked over the occupants of that room. A solitary tear may have been seen in his eye, though it was not clear.

"When the Maker is banished," Cid concluded, "Those memories will be lost. When the Maker falls, Fang and Vanille will never remember."


	25. Pain

**The end is in sight!  
I'm uploading this just before I go to College otherwise this won't go off my mind. Oh well, enjoy! **

"You sad?" Vanille chirped, carefully balancing a pair of plates on one wobbling tray, resting precariously in one hand.

After the Sylph had delivered their devastating news, everyone had left. Dajh to apparently tell Sazh, Cid to tell Hope and Asura.

"We might never remember," Vanille murmured, perky, yet her tone was tragic. She finished her sentence as she let the two plates fall neatly, just about in one piece, onto the table. Each contained a meal concocted from Gran Pulse plants, fruits, and several spices. It was a half-interesting, half-impressive mixture of a salad and a pie.

"Hard to miss something you've forgotten," Fang muttered, hiding her own feelings well, taking a bite of the meal.

"That's one way of looking at it," Vanille sighed, spooning another mouthful of her salad-pie-creation into her mouth

"That's _your_ way of thinking about it," Fang chuckled, "Always looking on the bright side, huh?"

"The bright side would be remembering,"

"Yeah," Fang sighed, "The really bright side would be escaping this mess."

"That'd be nice."

The two ate in silence for a while longer.

"What is this?" Fang spoke up, waving a spoon full of green leaves in front of her, before gulping it down, "Tastes like Sylkis."

"It is," Vanille chirruped, "Lightning said-"

"Thunder."

"Alright, Thunder," Vanille giggled, "Said a couple of the chocobo greens were popular among humans too; you can buy Sylkis greens in shops, it's pretty popular."  
"Never thought I'd say it, but these Cocoon vipers have good taste." Fang gulped down another spoonful of the Sylkis greens.

"Don't call them vipers," Vanille giggled, "they've got legs."

"Fine," Fang chuckled, "Who'd have thought we'd be friends with the people we tried to kill?"

"Not us," Vanille murmured, sad, "Ragnarok."

"Don't talk about it," Fang gripped her spoon tightly, knuckled turning white, before gradually relaxing, "Sorry Vanille, it just makes me sick. I refuse to be used like that again."

"With any luck, we won't be."

"Luck…that'll be the day."

"We're due for some!" Vanille laughed, "Well, the date's set."

"That it is," Fang let her spoon clang against the dish for a moment, before scraping up the little of the Sylkis greens that were left, "Next week and we're all going to Cocoon."

"To save the world!" Vanille dissolved into giggles at the corniness of the phrase

"Or die trying," Fang finished grimly

"Can we leave that bit out?" Vanille looked up, placing her spoon on her empty plate

"If you want," Fang scraped the last of her meal up, swallowing it, before smiling up at Vanille.

"I do,"

"I do too," Fang chuckled, before frowning, mumbling something

"What is it?" the redhead leant forwards

"Nothing," Fang relaxed her brow, "Just thought I remembered something."

"A wedding?" Vanille tilted her head, "You're not the only one with memory troubles."

"Snow's and Serah's probably."

"Probably, but it's a good sign, isn't it?"

"Hope so." Fang sidled around the table in her chair, getting close enough to put an arm over Vanille's shoulders.

"You think if we remember everything before we go to Cocoon, we'll keep the memories?"

"Maybe," Fang kissed Vanille on the cheek, "But we haven't remembered anything properly yet, just flashes. Weddings, fal'Cie…"

"Buildings and ships and ruins and crystal," Vanille sang, "And something with a lot of heads."

"Barthendelus?" Fang frowned

"Don't know," the redhead giggled, "Can't remember its name. Sounds about right though."

"Dammit!" Fang shouted, composure breaking for a second, during which, she pounded her fist on the table

"Fang?" Vanille frowned, sounding scared

"Sorry Vanille," she inhaled for a moment, "This is driving me crazy, memories just teasing me."

"I thought I was meant to tease you."  
"That's not like you, I'm the one who says the double entendres"

"Uh-uh, there's no double with you."

"True enough," Fang chuckled

"What's for pudding?" Vanille tilted her head.

Fang raised her eyebrows.

Vanille giggled, "Told you so! It's never a double entendre with you, just an entendre."

"With you," Fang leant across, meeting Vanille's lips, "Do you blame me?"

Vanille mumbled something, feeling Fang crawl on top of her.

"What was that?" Fang whispered, husky, seductive, making a few _very _suggestive moves

"Um…no?" Vanille chirruped hopefully

"Good answer," Fang chuckled, moving down Vanille's body.

X

Vanille-2-the-Sylph hovered through the air, surveying the cities, moving along flash by flash. As she travelled, she took in all the sights, the sounds; remembering the world.

It was a habit she'd formed; it started the first day she regained control, she wanted to remember this new world, it might not be her Gran Pulse, but it was still a Gran Pulse, Cocoon Pulse maybe, and as such, it was still her home. She had to make up for how ever many lost years.

A small light illuminated a clearing in a forest so far below. Recognizing it, she dived, swooping silently into the clearing. There was the flash of a Sylph departing. Being sure to focus, she darted up to it, vanishing on the same spot and sliding through the ridges in space, to reappear the same location as the other Sylph.

"Hey Cid," Vanille-2 said, slowing to a halt just next to the other Sylph

"You followed me," he stated, "Are you just getting practice in, or was there a purpose to that?"

"You're getting nerves already?" the Gran Pulsian shrugged, forming a small seat out of rocks and dust, "It's a week until we get busy."

"Who said anything about nerves?"

"You did. We might not be able to read each others' minds, but we're still Sylph, it's easy to read your mood."

"I always act like this," Cid replied, keeping his voice level, facing forwards

"You don't, you really don't. You're blinking slowly, leaves are relaxed, and you sound different."

"You're counting how many times I blink?" Cid replied with quiet amusement

"See! You only respond to one part, any other time you'd answer fully."

"That doesn't mean I'm worried."

"Oh it does, why is it so hard for you to admit it?"  
"Because it's a lie."

"Cid," Vanille-2 sighed

"Alright, I'm worried!" Raines snapped, "Happy now?"

"Not really. You shouldn't be."

"It's easy to say that isn't it? Not so easy to do anything about it."

"We've got a whole week before you actually need to be nervous. Besides, what will you actually be doing then? Taking the guys to the Cradle, the rest of us have to distract every single bleeding Sylph from here to Balamb."

"It's not that which is making me nervous," Cid responded, "It is the Sylph; any of them could appear right here, right now, and what could we do about it?"

"Run," Vanille-2 replied, vanishing and reappearing the other side of Cid, "Or fight, you did that Eidolon thing earlier?"

"I doubt I could do it again; it was fluke. I have no brand from which to call it, no way to summon the creature again. It was just the grace of Etro which allowed my survival that once. Also, fleeing would not work, you found me here after I moved."

"True," the other Sylph sighed, before brightening, "Say, want to play chase?"

"What?" Cid sighed wearily

"Chase, see if I can really run from you. I'll run, you follow.

"Fine, anything's better than moping," Cid slowly hovered up, nodding.

Vanille-2 Sylph vanished in a flash, the light of a diamond suddenly flaring up, before fading again. Giving her a couple of seconds, Cid waited, before darting towards that spot of air.

To be honest, he wasn't sure how he could follow other Sylph this way, he just could. The theory they worked with was that they warped by skimming across the boundaries of death, why they seemed to vanish and why there was a light, and by following, they followed the 'footprints' left in the light.

Cid reappeared far above Taejin's Tower. He looked around, sensing several Sylph footprints. Clever. She'd warped several times into this area, confusing the tracks. Concentrating, Raines picked out the most recent trail, using some Sylph instinct he'd kept with him, and slid along it.

A split second later, he found himself in some winding tunnels; his sense of direction told him he was somewhere in the Atomos dwelling, far from Oerba and the Archelyte Steppe. Reacting quickly, he rolled to the side, avoiding a stone as it fell; a stone no doubt loosed by Vanille-2. Deciding she was more inventive than he'd given her credit for, he followed. Flash. Huge sea, breathtaking. Flash. Adamantoises. Rolling from beneath a titanic foot, he once again vanished. Flash. Ice. Flash. Fire. Flash. Beneath an avalanche. Flash.

By now, he was a little bored; after the first few obstacles, things had dulled down, though he kept his guard up; he was being careful, he had to be, around any Gran Pulsian.

Flash. Rooftop. Flash. Cocoon, crystallized. Cid felt a momentary appreciation as he struggled to find a recent trail in the flood of Sylph tracks in this area, before he sensed something that felt a lot like Vanille's tracks, and he vanished again.

He found himself in the empty air this time; above a huge, empty desert. Cid flailed in the air for a moment, unable to sense any tracks, before he was suddenly pushed and pinned to the desert floor by a pair of Sylph leaves.

"What'd I tell you?" Vanille-2 spoke, just above Cid, "It isn't that hard, as long as you try."

"That doesn't mean I'll be ready for next week. I've been controlled by them too many times before. I don't want it to happen again, I won't let it happen again, but I don't know if I can."

"Only you can help yourself there," Vanille-2 let Cid get up, flashing along with him to Fang and Vanille's rooftop.

"Can you hear it?" Cid replied after a second

"Huh?" Vanille-2 paused, surprised and confused at the change of subject.

"Can you hear it? The Sylph?"

Vanille paused, still not completely sure.

"I can," Cid continued, "The Sylph in me. Before, it controlled me, now I'm in control, but I can still hear it screaming."

"We all hear it," Vanille-2 responded, solemn, "That's why we waited so long to contact you; those who regain their sense of self often lose it after a few days."

"I know I shouldn't," Cid admitted, "But sometimes it is just so tempting to give up. To give the Sylph dominance once more. I don't want to, but it's so maddening. One second's lapse of control, and every Sylph will know about us. We'd have scarcely a minute before they come after every one of us, and I doubt they'll be satisfied just killing Dajh this time."

"Then don't give up," Vanille whispered, taking Cid's 'hand' and vanishing with him.

X

Dajh-Sylph rode along the streets, a gently swaying motion, calming comforting. He didn't care what strange looks they got; he might look like a supposed fal'Cie atop a yellow bird, but while he was with Choco, it was more like he was once again Dajh, human, with his closest friend.

Dajh liked the other Sylph; well, those in the resistance. He felt a sense of belonging, of understanding, when among them. Each of them was unique, and yet they all shared something; the same situation and condition. The same, shared impossibility.

But in the end, none of it compared with his friend of several lifetimes, the ubiquitous Choco, just a pet to begin with, growing to the proud bird he now rested atop. Golden feathers, a beak like sunlight, and comforting eyes. What wasn't to like?

Quiet, Dajh gently drew Choco to a stop, just by Sazh's house. He'd started using the garage as temporary stables. The yellow bird nimbly hopped up onto the pavement, before using its thin legs to amble over to the garage. Dajh activated the system, and guided Choco inside.

"You're back then?" Sazh called out of a window, before hurrying around the house and exiting the front door.

"Yeah, hi dad," Dajh chuckled, twirling and hovering out of the still open garage.

"Whatcha do today?" Sazh paced up to Choco, stroking the bird's neck and receiving a chirp in response

"Got plenty of strange looks, fed him a few greens, went for a lap of the old race track,"

"Whoa, the race track? They've still got that?"

"Not really, I think everyone's forgotten about it; it's completely overgrown. Took a little effort to clear it, but worth it. The plaque's still there, right in the middle."

"The plaque of winners? I hope you added your name to it."  
"Afraid not dad," Dajh laughed, "I did manage to beat my record on one run though."

"Nice job," Sazh ran his fingers down one of his son's leaves, "Sheesh, I'm never gonna get used to that."

"You won't have to," Dajh murmured, quiet

"Don't mention that, `k?" Sazh responded stiffly, changing the mood instantly, "I don't want to think about it."

"We can't ignore it forever, but sure, I'll pretend I won't vanish once we're done."  
"Dajh…" Sazh sighed. "Alright, let's talk about something else. You see Vanille today?"

"Almost. I heard groaning noises from the house and decided to give it a miss."

"You know that never stopped you before."

"I'll give them a free run for once. People always run in on them, it' sonly fair to give them at least one o-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Sazh chuckled, "You seen Cid?"

"Nope. I don't keep track of every Sylph."

"Just wondering if you were practising for next week."

"Oh yeah, he was with us, wasn't he?"  
"Don't look at me! You're supposed to be keeping track of these things," Sazh paused, "What was the plan again? I keep forgetting."

"It's simple. The Sylph resistance come out, make a dash for Cocoon, lead all the Sylph away, pincer back in on Cocoon, keep them all busy. We go to Orphan's Cradle after a little diversion, find whatever's keeping the Maker near, and stop it. Then you get the hell out of there, somehow."

Sazh noted Dajh's use of the word 'you'. "Right, and NORA keeps the Sylph distracted on Pulse; we all get into groups before goin' up there, make the Sylph think we're staying down here, before warping up to Cocoon."

"Perfect," Dajh twirled on the spot. "I thought you wanted to change the subject?"

"I just wanted to ask," Sazh lifted his hands up, in a mock-mercy gesture. "By the way, the history documentary's continuing in half an hour; you know, the one you saw yesterday, about us before. Want to see how wrong they are this time?"

"Sure" Dajh nodded, drifting back over to Choco as Sazh re-entered the house.

Dajh-the-Sylph perched on Choco's lightly feathered back, sending the chains of feathers that fell down from Choco's beak gently swaying. Choco let out a light 'Kweh', turning its head to rub against Dajh. The Sylph chuckled, marvelling how, while so different to human eyes, the chocobo had never forgotten him.

Gently, Dajh lightly stroked the yellow feathers that ran down the bird's neck, his favourite feeling. Choco cawed, brushing up against Dajh's small frame.

The mood changed as if a switch was thrown.

The chocobo's gentle murmurs turned to a sudden squawk of alarm, followed by a cautious silence. The ministrations performed by Dajh were forgotten, as the Sylph span around; looking through the now oppressive half-light in the temporary stables.

A new Sylph hovered in the air, just opposite him.

"So, you're Dajh," the Sylph spoke in the unmistakable, squeaky, high pitched tones of a Maker-controlled ghost

"I am," Dajh replied, keeping his tone guarded, turning over to he faced past Choco's tail feathers. The Sylph watched him.

"Odd, I cannot feel you. One of the uprising?"

Dajh knew well enough to keep silent

"Intriguing," the Sylph paused, "Why? Why would you turn away from us?"

"Because I can. I won't betray everyone I know by being controlled."

"Who said anything about betrayal? What of the advantages of being one with us? The knowledge of billions, the feeling of belonging, the memories…"

"I have friends. I've remembered them, and I won't forget."

"That's no bother. They could become Sylph too; you just have to ask," the most chilling thing was the ease, the almost childlike naivety with which the Sylph spoke.

"No!" Dajh suddenly shouted the word, hoping it would just sound like an angry outburst to the Sylph. "I'm fighting to stop anyone having to be Sylph."  
"It's not all that bad." It paused, "You're fighting?"

Dajh stayed silent.

"What are you planning?" the Sylph's childlike intonation was replaced by an angry, interrogative sneer

Dajh kept silent, not trusting himself to speak. He'd already revealed too much with a throwaway remark.

"Dajh!" Sazh entered the garage, called by Dajh's earlier cry. He froze upon seeing the new Sylph.

"Another," the Sylph whispered, "We'll have to do this the quick way."

There were two flashes of light. The first was just a twinkle over Dajh: the next was a diamond around the Sylph. S that stranger vanished, the other light dimmed.

In its place was a large chunk of black, steaming stone. The rock fell too fast for anyone to react; the boiling mass of rock crashed down of Dajh and Choco. With a cry of momentary agony under the immense heat, Sylph-Dajh struggled to concentrated, though, a split second later, managed to flash, along with Choco away from the mass.

Dajh looked down. The rock had been heavy; even his deceptively strong Sylph body had felt the weight as it pressed him almost to the floor. He didn't dare think of Choco beneath him; the bird's feathers had been blackened by ash rubbing off the rock, especially around the head. The neck; the neck now sticking out at an unnatural angle.

"Tell me I'm imagining it," Sazh gasped.

Dajh fell off the still bird, rolling, spread out onto the empty pavement. Beside him, legs broken, feathers covered in ash, lay Choco. The bird's beak still faced forwards, unspoiled save for a mild crack running down one side. The eyes were closed by gravity. The feathers along the head were still a striking gold, mostly unspoiled by the heated stone. The feathers continued down the bird's thin neck. Up until an unnatural bend, a snap, caused by the crushing descent of the Sylph's rock.

Choco had died; and the thing that scared Dajh the most was the frightening ease with which it had happened; a lone thought, bored, to take the life of his closest friend.

Dajh let out a deafening shout, unable to find any other means to express the whorl of emotions within him. His voice cracked, deep tones giving way to the occasional squeak. For exactly one second, his voice was little more than a high pitched screech. Then he looked down, some tears falling onto Choco's soft feathers. Tense, Dajh looked up, eyes somehow glaring, cold, angry.

"Ah," he murmured, his voice the icy words of one of the Maker's Sylph.

Dajh seemed to fling himself backwards, shaking, shivering, before letting out another shout, once more in a deeper voice.

Several seconds passed, Dajh laying spread eagled, facedown on the ground. After that, Dajh looked up. If it was possible, he looked even paler.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible, "I lost control."

"Huh?" Sazh knelt down next to him.

"The Sylph- the Sylph know. About us. About everything."

A tense silence followed his words.

"We have to tell the others; we need to got to Cocoon now, before the Sylph retaliate."

With that, Dajh vanished.


	26. Onwards!

**Sorry, sorry, sorry this took so long!  
I had several thousand pages to check through in my job, not fun, and for obvious reasons that kept me away from this. I hope it doesn't disappoint.  
The finale is...close. Very close.  
Enjoy! **

Dajh appeared with a flash just above Fang and Vanille. The duo had just enough time to try and cover themselves up with their clothes, before Dajh ducked down. "Head for the lake. Fifteen minutes," he muttered.

The Gran Pulsians stumbled forwards, falling onto the empty floor within some warehouse. Quickly getting into their clothes, glad they'd kept sandals on, the two got to their feet, unable to see Dajh.

"What was that?" Fang muttered to herself, brushing her clothes down

"Practice run?" Vanille squeaked

"I hope so," Fang mumbled, "Or it could be the real thing."

"But that's meant to be a week!"

"Meant to be. I don't trust these Sylph," with that, Fang's spear, and Vanille's binding rod, clanged onto the floor in the distance, apparently dropped by Cid the Sylph.

"It's real," Vanille sighed, "That answers it."

"Less time to worry," Fang chuckled, "Didn't Dajh say something about a lake?"

"And fifteen minutes. Why couldn't we just go the old routes we'd planned? I knew my way around those."

"Maybe the Sylph know," Fang shrugged, leading the way out the warehouse. A moment later, she ducked back in, pinning Vanille to the wall. "Scratch that, they definitely know."

Swarms of Sylph were cascading through the sky, literal waves pouring past.

"Are they…looking for us?" Vanille whispered a squeak.

Fang didn't dare respond.

The duo kept their eyes focused on the fiasco outside, tense. There didn't seem to be any way through; the minutes were ticking by, and they only had fifteen to start with.

The tides changed in that instant. The Sylph resistance. A wall of more Sylph flashed into the air, darting towards the waves of Maker-possessed Sylph, and vanishing. After several similar manoeuvres, the sky was almost clear, save for momentary pulses of light in the distance.

"We'd better get going," Fang spoke, grabbing Vanille's hand and running out into the street, out past the people, still looking, awed at the spectacle in the sky, and out, hoping, praying she could find this 'lake' in her allotted time.

The redhead followed the elder Gran Pulsian, running and swerving down the street. Occasionally, Fang pulled Vanille into an alleyway, as Sylph barrelled past, though they both doubted they were actually noticed: the Sylph seemed too occupied, mostly with the other Sylph.

"This is definitely real," Fang rolled her eyes, "We only ever get lost on the real run through."

"You never do anything the easy way," Vanille giggled, "Watch!"

The redhead hopped over to a bystander, one standing, frozen, in the street. Apparently she'd once been walking somewhere, but since the wave of Sylph, most of the people were just standing there, awed at the spectacle, especially the fireworks of Sylph in the sky, visible even though it was day.

"Hey there!" Vanille waved. The woman tore her eyes away from the sky, eyes widening as she saw Vanille

"Oh, I-" her eyes widened further as she saw Fang, "Both of you!" the woman gave a shy curtsy, "I n-"

"Thanks," Vanille interjected. Lightning had told her of their idol-status, but it was always disconcerting to actually experience it. "Do you know if there's a lake around here?"

"A l- sure, would you like me to take you there?"

"Um," Vanille shared a look with Fang, both thinking the same, "No thanks, could you tell us where it is though?"

"Sure," the woman nodded hastily, "Down there, left, right at Clasko's, and go up the steps. Why?"

"Doesn't matter," Vanille giggled, nodding in thanks

"Oh, I didn't mean- forgive me,"

"Nothing to forgive," Vanille chirped, hopping away to rejoin Fang. "See, there is an easy way," the redhead giggled

"You remember that?"

"Sure! Left, right at Clasko's, up the steps," Vanille recited.

Without waiting, the redhead skipped ahead, going down the road until her first left turn. A little way down this street was a reddish shop with a sign, made of wood painted red, with gold letters on, labelling the building 'Clasko's'. Several chocobo supplies seemed to line the windows, along with pet food.

"It's them!"

"I can't believe it…"

"Thought they'd be in that house of theirs?"

"Oh my- oh my-"

"Never thought…"

"Holy-"

The whispers started up the instant the duo entered the next, busier street. Fang mumbled something about killing Dajh, again, if they got through this.

The two Gran Pulsians trailed down the street, attempting to feign indifference, rather than their frank nervousness at all the people all-but worshipping for the event they couldn't even remember.

"You remember the old plan?" Fang whispered back to Vanille, the raven haired Pulsian taking the lead

"Planning doesn't feel like a major part of this bit," Vanille squeaked back

"I meant where we were meant to go,"

"Of course! Into a building, one of NORA will be there to trick the Sylph."

"Who were we looking for again?"

"Lebreau! As long as there's a place by the lake."

"I hope Dajh thought about this," Fang mused, sighing.

"Me too," Vanille giggled, darting down the alley beside Clasko's. As promised, a flight of stairs zigzagged up a stone hill, and a few quacks and whooshes of waves caught up to them.

"Sounds about right," Fang noted

"I guess it is!" Vanille gave Fang a peck on the cheek, before sprinting all the way to the top of the stairs.

"Hey! Don't tire yourself out yet!" Fang called, briskly moving up, though slower than Vanille

"Let me guess," Vanille looked down at Fang, "You'll do it for me?"

"Actually, I was going to say save it for the Sylph," Fang smiled roguishly, "But that too," the elder Gran Pulsian caught up with the redhead.

Vanille hopped, perky as always, despite the situation, across the land. It was mostly stone and mud, with sparse, bare pockets of grass peering up, leading the way to a small, wood-and-metal hut by the edge of the lake.

"Hey!" Lebreau stepped out of the hut, "Get in! There's just a couple of minutes left!"

"I guess Dajh did tell them," Fang shrugged, running along the ground, hands joined with Vanille.

"I guess so," Vanille giggled, stopping just outside the hut, "So, the Sylph will see us go in there, and…Lebreau will keep them occupied, make them think we're there, while we're on Cocoon,"

"Yeah," Fang nodded gravely, voice serious now rather than its previous, casual, half-flirting tones. "You ready?"

"I guess I have to be." Vanille looked up bravely, smiling

"No, if you're not ready, we won't go,"

"Oh…" Vanille looked down, "Really?"

"Of course. What would be the point in saving anything, if you weren't happy?"

"Thanks," Vanille smiled, sadly, resigned, "But I guess I'm ready."

"You sure?"

"Almost," Vanille hopped on the spot, momentarily giggling, once again perky. She pushed herself up on one leg, before pressing her lips to Fang's.

The two stayed like that for a minute. Vanille had both hands running through Fang's raven hair, feeling the soft locks while also keeping the woman close, as Fang simply embraced the younger redhead.

"I'm ready now," Vanille reluctantly sank back down, breathless

"I should hope so, after all that," Lebreau commented, amused, staring out of the hut, "Now get in here, he'll be here any second."

Hurrying, hands still holding each other, the two Gran Pulsians entered the hut. Lebreau shut the door, preventing any of the sparkling Sylph outside from seeing within. A moment later, Dajh appeared, he looked up at the duo, smiling.

"Glad you could make it," he panted, before reaching down on them and taking them far, far way.

X

"The shop, fifteen minutes!" Dajh hurried the words out, but before she could react, Lightning was taken away. Moments later, she found herself stumbling forwards, in some downtown street.

She mumbled a curse, making sure her gun-blade was still strapped to her side. The Dajh-Sylph had gone, though she wasn't sure whether or not that was a good sign; well, he'd taken her here, very rushed, so that probably wasn't good. Had the endgame already begun? To Lightning, it felt like it.

The pink haired soldier lifted a hand to her neck in a practised gesture, before muttering another curse; she wasn't wearing her hood. Her famous features were now on view to the whole world; she just hoped no one would recognize them.

With a loud thump, two other people appeared on the street just opposite her. Dajh vanished with a twinkle, once again giving them the destination "the shop, fifteen minutes."

"Serah?" Lightning called, trying to keep her voice quieter, "Snow?"

She sighed; no way were they going to keep their identities quiet now. All three of them, plus the fact she, Lightning, was one of the more famous members of the group-GC officer against the Sanctum etc-well, it would take an idiot not to suspect something.

"Hey sis!" Snow waved, "This doesn't look good."

"Understatement of the century," Lightning muttered, striding over to Snow, "Get up, or didn't you hear Dajh? We've got fifteen minutes."

"Claire," Serah quickly piped up, "Don't get annoyed, we're all a little on edge. I thought this was meant to be a week away."

"Thinking about what never happened won't achieve much," Lightning's words were harsh, but her features and voice softened.

"Do you know what shop Dajh was talking about, the shop?" Snow quickly steered the subject away from anything that could frustrate Lightning

"I-I think so," Lightning didn't so much stutter, as pause during her speech, to look around. "I know this street. Came here when I was investigating." She paused to look at Serah, "Do you have your weapon?"

"Yeah," Serah nodded, taking a small, sleek pistol from her pocket, "Gadot gave it to me, apparently it was 'too small for his tastes'."

She held the tiny twirl of metal out in her palm; it was very small. Perfectly smooth, made out of a whitish metal carrying a blue sheen, the weapon curved halfway, ending in a tapered point. Only two imperfections marred the otherwise level surface: one oval of pale purple instead of a trigger, and a tiny cuboid catch on the opposite side of the tube to that.

Serah clicked the switch, and pressed the trigger button, while pointing it at the ground. The pointed tip glimmered slightly, and though no bullet was visible, the road beneath it became charred.

"PSICOM prototype," Serah explained, "Gadot also said it was a little too flashy, but I like flashy."

"Serah will dazzle any Sylph we come across," Snow patted his wife on the back, chuckling.

"We'll need more than dazzling," Lightning replied, before marching off.

The married couple floundered behind few a few moments, before they made their way to follow Lightning. They only had a few minutes, and Lightning was the only one who seemed to know where they had to go.

As the trio entered the main street, the whispers were inevitable. Sylph were flying like lightning through the sky, seeming insane, and now three people with an uncanny resemblance to the almost-legendary l'Cie of long ago, were walking forward. Was it an omen? A dream? A nightmare?

Whatever it was, it was enough for the normally heaving crowd to part before them, letting the trio easily go past.

"Do you think Alexi will be okay?" Serah whispered

"Should be," Snow muttered back, "If Dajh paid attention to the plan, Yuj and Asura should be with her."

"I hope so," Serah whispered

"We're here," Lightning announced, breaking up the duo's conversation.

A scattering of people hastily stepped out of Lightning's way, letting her walk into a shop just past them. A line of Sylph appeared for a split second in the middle of the street, before another Sylph rocketed past, making the line flash away. The crowd stepped away from this also, moving as one, thoughts paralyzed by the oddities of the events.

Lightning was the first to enter the shop, followed hastily by Snow and Serah. As they entered, they took in the interior. Most of the shelves were filled with general items, while the back few shelves were filled with rows and rows of cuddly dolls, most of the ex-l'Cie and their friends of years ago.

"And you are?" the brunette shopkeeper spoke from behind the counter. As the trio turned, she stifled a small gasp.

"Freya," Lightning replied, a little too quickly, "We're waiting for someone here."

"Y-yeah, right," the shopkeeper nodded, understandably surprised. She could compare the trio in front of her with the dolls just behind them; they looked eerily similar.

"You find out anything about that Sylph you were investigating?" the shopkeeper attempted to strike up conversation

"Yes," Lightning nodded curtly

"Right…want me to try and find out what it bought again?"

"No, it was Raines."

"Oh yeah!" the shopkeeper gasped, "So…you know, you look just like her."

"Who?"

"Her, Lightning," the shopkeeper pointed to the dolls

"I do huh?" Lightning responded with a noncommittal grunt.

A moment later, Dajh-Sylph appeared with a flash, carrying Gadot, Fang and Vanille.

The shopkeeper fell back onto a chair, amazed.

"Is Alexi alright?" Serah anxiously asked

"Naturally," Dajh replied, "I stuck to the plan. Coming?" it extended a leaf.

Lightning took hold of the leaf, while also holding Serah's hand, and she held Snow's hand. Fang held the other leaf, whose hand was tightly gripped by Vanille. Smiling, Gadot stepped away.

With that, the group vanished in a flash, an almost tangible diamond appearing in the air, glimmering, before the shining ebbed away, leaving a glittering mist, which soon dissipated. Where almost the whole part of ex-l'Cie had stood, there was now nothing.

X

"Sorry dad!" Dajh cried, barrelling past. He brushed over Sazh's shoulder, taking his father away in a flash. Sazh reappeared in the old, old, ruined chocobo race tracks.

"The starting stables!" Dajh spoke, "Fifteen minutes," he finished, before again vanishing.

Sazh took a moment to look around, taking in the nostalgic scenery. It had been quite a while since he was last here. Sighing, he started to move forwards, before Hope appeared just in front of him, accompanied by two Sylph.

"We will alert the Sylph and NORA," Cid's Sylph spoke, hovering next to Dajh, "Things start and end now."

With that, the two Sylph vanished, leaving Sazh and Hope standing around, in between collapsed hurdles, ivy, bracken, and fallen trees.

"Do you know where to go?" Hope asked, looking around

"Think so," Sazh looked around, still nostalgic. "I helped train Dajh in the races, ooh, feels like a month ago."

"Do you know which bit to go to?"

"Of course, Dajh said the start, which is," Sazh paused, looking around, "This is the jumpy bit so it's that way," Sazh turned, to face down a long stretched of crumbled stone and wood, littered with fallen hurdles and plants.

"Do you know why this is happening?" Hope struck up a conversation as they made their way down the track

"Yeah," Sazh nodded, "A Sylph…killed Choco, made Dajh lose control."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Sazh tried to make light of the situation, "Dajh got back in control, but too late, Sylph heard him. That's why we gotta rush."

As Sazh stepped over a hurdle, a swarm of Sylph tore through the air. He pointed up to it, catching Hope's attention, making the silver haired man peer up also. A pair of the creatures darted forwards, before a lone Sylph caught up with both, touched them with two of its leaves, and took them flashing elsewhere.

"Looks like Dajh kept his word," Hope murmured, "The resistance is definitely keeping the Sylph busy."

"Good," Sazh smiled up, proud of his son, wherever Dajh was, "Because now we have to run. There's an open space coming up."

"Right," Hope nodded, hopping over to a spot just by the edge of a tree's shade. Ahead of him lay a long, winding, clear path. Several Sylph swam through the air above it. Silently, Sazh pointed across the uneven stone track, towards a set of stables, constructed of rotten, almost fallen wood. By the side of it was a metal cabin, presumably used by the judges of the chocobo races. From within the cabin, they saw Maqui of NORA wave eagerly at them.

Shrugging and chuckling, Sazh was the first to take off, sprinting across the floor. Sure, he wasn't as fast as a chocobo, but he was so used to the ground, the land, even when it was this old, that it was little trouble.

He felt sad at running along the tracks normally reserved for Choco, especially considering the bird's recent fate. However, while it might not be the noblest of motives, that served to push him onwards: revenge. Like his anger as the Sanctum when Dajh had been taken, he felt the same now. The Sylph had taken his son as well as Choco. It was hard not to be vindictive.

Sazh opened the door and ran into the judge's cabin, sitting on a deck chair just next to Maqui. A few moments later, Hope stumbled in.

"Did they see you?" Maqui eagerly spoke up

"No," Hope shook his head, panting, "Don't think so."

"Good," Maqui laughed, "That's always good."

"Will you be ok when we've gone?" Sazh urgently asked, "I don't want anyone else to get hurt."  
"I'll be fine," Maqui rolled his eyes, "Sylph are no match for NORA!" he chuckled the old slogan out, clapping his hands together.

Before either of the two could respond, Cid flashed into sight, just beside Maqui. Without any warning, he touched both Sazh and Hope, and in the next instant, they were engulfed in a flash of light.

At their various places over Cocoon, the whole of NORA was on guard. Gadot made small talk with the shopkeeper, keeping an eye out for Sylph. Lebreau kicked back, relaxing in the hut, while also watching out for Sylph, and Maqui just looked out onto the chocobo tracks, waiting, tensing as each Sylph flashed past. Yuj and Asura resided in Snow and Serah's house, with the young Alexi.

Far, far away, Dajh appeared, carrying Fang, Vanille, Snow, Serah and Lightning. Seconds after, Cid, Sazh and Hope appeared. They were standing under a translucent arch, beneath a crimson sky.

Orphan's Cradle.

It had taken several warps; some as they span through the air, one to the side of the crystallized Cocoon, and one to conclude, into the Cradle. Exciting would've been putting it mildly, terrifying would be closer, the freefalls on the way. But now…they were here.

Things had changed. The sky was still the vivid crimson it was so many years ago, though it seemed, somehow, less energetic. There was no travelling blocks or platforms floating past; just emptiness. Even the platform they stood on seemed weaker; with a little effort, they could see through it, to the dulled amethyst void beyond.

In the centre of the main platform stood the main change; instead of just an altar, there were two, solid, curved metal rods, like pincers. The ground around it was the most opaque anywhere in the Cradle; and not surprising. The two pillars were new; but between them was something both new to the Cradle, and yet immeasurably ancient. The door of souls; a physical manifestation of the boundary between life and death, a circle of the purest white light.

Each of the arrivals experienced something new upon looking upon the swirling white. Dajh and Cid saw just the light, an ordinary light, as they had passed beyond it themselves. However, the humans beheld special sights.

Lightning restrained herself, forcing herself not to react as she saw a reflection of Serah's face appear, as if in a mirror, over the light. She looked melancholy, gently, heartbreakingly sad. Lightning blinked, closing her eyes tightly. Once she reopened them, the vision had faded; instead she could just see the swirling circle of lights as it was, and in the centre… Lightning bit back a gasp.

As Snow watched, he saw his own hallucination: Alexi and Serah, both reflected somehow of the gateway. The image was slowly fading, as if being washed away, Snow found himself struggling to even remember how their faces used to look. He quickly turned away, catching sight of Serah's pink locks, remembering her face in that instant. As he turned to look back at the door, the image had gone, to be replaced by something he almost wished was another dream, even though he knew it wasn't.

Serah beheld another hallucination. A moving one; she recognized Lightning's hand, her gloves, tightly gripping her Saber. In a fluid motion, it was thrust silently across the screen, into Snow's chest. There was no blood, only a sudden wash of fear emanating from the hallucination: the one she couldn't hate, taking the life of the one she couldn't live without. Serah felt Snow stumbled beside her, quickly, she looked around, making sure her husband was fine. After a breathless moment, she looked back at the door of souls, the shimmering cloud, beyond which, lay death. In the centre was a figure, a shadow against the light.

Dajh waved out of the door, towards Sazh, astride a silently chirping, happy Choco. Sazh blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the illusion, an image which soon faded. Upon seeing what was truly there, he fervently wished he could call back the illusion.

Smiling, waving, Nora Estheim looked serenely out of the portal, visible only to her son. The thought alone was enough to tear open age old wounds within Hope, and, as the image faded, he fought back the urge to collapse. The alluring door to death stood there, resolute, contained somehow, but in the middle, a silhouette was visible, a human figure, upper body standing straight up, with its lower body on the other side of the door. He caught sight of the newcomers, and opened his mouth to say something, before his words failed him.

Fang and Vanille, hands still joined, watched the same illusion together: it wasn't anything they'd seriously thought about, and yet, the sight played out over the door of souls. Night, the air glimmering, as the duo joined hands, moving closer to each other, shining brightly. They morphed together into the fearsome, yet somehow beautiful, figure of Ragnarok. The flash of light from the transformation shattered the almost-memory, sending ripples across the screen, instead leaving them facing the almost empty circle, empty save for the one man.

"Illusions," Cid spoke, "All illusions."

"That's not," Lightning replied, quiet, unmoving, watching the door of souls.

A memory stirred within Fang and Vanille, one they couldn't focus on; it was like trying to catch smoke. They just kept their eyes focused on the pitiful figure, half in death, half out. No one spoke after the brief exchange between Lightning and Cid until, moments later, Hope took a disbelieving step forward. He looked at the man within the door of souls. He spoke hesitantly.

"Dad?"


	27. Sacrifice

**Well...the end is upon us. Hopefully I didn't go too overboard. This is the last chapter!**

**Everything comes together: the heroes journey to Orphan's Cradle, to prevent the Maker's return. Two things weigh on their minds: the ring of Sylph mentioned a leader, and even if they did win, Fang and Vanille would lose their memories. **

**Perhaps some sacrifices will have to be made...**

"The time the Maker truly awoke," Dajh was whispering to himself, "All those years ago, because of Halyard Lee Wevos. The day Hope's father died. I always thought he became a Sylph."

"No," Cid murmured, shaking his head, "I should've seen it. Bartholomew Estheim was the event which called the Maker closer, of course he wouldn't fade away like so many others. He would be caught in the door, _he _is the thing calling the Maker, whether he wishes to or not."

Silence greeted the latest proclamation before hesitantly, as if under a spell, the group moved as one towards Bartholomew Estheim, to where he stood, within the door of souls.

"No!" his first words in centuries, Hope's father, shouted, "Come no closer! Beyond this door is death, don't even come close."

"He calls the Maker," Cid murmured, expressionlessly, stiff-faced. "There is only one option."

"Only one…" Hope's eyes widened when he realized what Cid was talking about, "No!"

"No," Lightning echoed, turning to glare at Cid, "How can you even suggest that?"

"Because you survived it before. You did your mourning then, this doesn't change that. He has to die, Bartholomew Estheim must once more fall to seal the door of souls."

"Not that easy," Vanille squeaked, "It's never that easy."

"You think this is easy?" Hope turned, eyes blazing, anger suddenly coursing through him

"Actually, yeah," Fang muttered, "Back on Gran Pulse, we had to make sacrifices. A friend, a family member. Never fun, but it had to be done."

"This isn't your Gran Pulse."

"It's a hell of a lot closer than it should be," Fang retorted, "A hunting party sent out after one foe, just like the old days. With this foe, no price is too high. Is your daddy really more important than the whole of Cocoon?"

"You're not the Fang we knew," Lightning muttered

"No, I'm not sunshine, and you'd better get used to it. Love me or hate me, I don't care, but I'm doing this for you," Fang pursed her lips, somehow struggling against herself. She knew it had to be done, and yet some part of her rebelled at the thought of doing anything to this stranger.

Triumphing over her doubts, she stuck her right arm forwards, sharp tip of her spear aimed at Bartholomew's throat. The weapon pierced the air, gliding smoothly. The shining door surrounding Hope's father seemed to brighten as the weapon neared him. A loud, reverberating sound came nor just from the door, but from the air and land around them. It couldn't be called a voice, as it was both too faint, and too loud to be called such. It echoed within their very thoughts.

_No!_

Fang stumbled for a moment upon hearing the cry, and before she could steady herself, something twinkled next to her spear. She looked up to see the vague outline of a Sylph vanish with her weapon.

"You shall not banish Her!" a voice shouted, resounding in the translucent Orphan's Cradle. The voice was not the tone of the Sylph; instead, it was deeper, not human, more imposing.

"I know that voice," Sazh muttered to himself, unable to pinpoint where from.

The Sylph appeared, sparkling into existence out of a diamond, just in front of the door of souls. It carried Fang's spear with one curled leaf.

"She is coming from further than you will ever dream, and you dare to take up arms against Her?" the Sylph spoke, again using a deep voice.

"You're not using a Sylph voice," Dajh noted, frowning, "Why aren't you on our side?"

"You're right," Cid paused, "You should be against the Sylph."

"Should I really? You are just tools, why would I ally myself with you?"

"Because-" Cid faltered, "Tools? You're a l'Cie, same as us, if you can control yourself."

"Do you truly believe that?" the Sylph gave a slow, superior, serious laugh, "You truly think only tools like you would receive Her blessing? Now, She is awakened! She shall choose her friends and servants."

Cid seemed to wilt in the air, descending a little way, realizing what was coming.

"I am Barthendelus!" the Sylph let out a victorious shout.

Lightning whipped her blade out at those words, instantly on guard, next to Snow, fists raised, and Serah, who looked around, not completely sure who Barthendelus was, before, taking note of everyone's reaction, tightening her grip on her pistol. Sazh clicked the safety off, on both his weapons, looking sideways to see Dajh flutter sideways, until the Sylph touched the barrel of his gun. Even Fang and Vanille reacted, tensing at the forgotten name, and then reacting from the dread experienced by the others.

"Remember, he's not connected," Cid murmured, barely audible, "Listen to his voice. The other Sylph aren't aware of this."

A tense moment passed. Barthendelus's Sylph stayed where it was, imposing, floating above Hope's father. Bartholomew slumped forward, tired, closing his eyes, somehow supported despite the fact only his upper body was visible: laying almost horizontally in midair.

"What hope do you have against I, the Maker's Chosen?" Barthendelus pronounced his apparent new title partly in awe, partly in boast.

"More than you think," Lightning whispered to herself, quiet, her anger with Fang pushed aside in light of the new foe. The soldier lifted her sword, firing two shots out of the weapon, inevitably missing as the Sylph warped away.

"Come on, tell me you remember _him_," Sazh remarked aside to the two Gran Pulsians

"Never seen him before," Fang replied, keeping her eyes trained on the dulled sky for any sign of the Sylph

"Not the Sylph, the _name_,"

"Barthendelus?" Vanille repeated it, "Just sounds strange."

"Big guy? Lots of heads?" Sazh described in vain

"Nope," Vanille shook her head, still cheerful.

"A great pity," Barthendelus's voice sounded from just next to the redhead's ear. She span to confront the Sylph, but it had vanished.

"Perhaps, if you could," it reappeared next to Fang for a moment, before vanishing and flashing back next to Vanille, "You would not make such a foolish choice as to fight."

Fang jabbed forwards with her spear, taking care to avoid Vanille. The spearhead penetrated the fading light of the fading Sylph.

"We met this guy before?" Fang commented, "Was he as annoying then."

"Worse," Lightning muttered grimly

"I don't think so, my dear," he appeared for a second by Lightning, before once again vanishing before any weapon could it him. "I am blessed by the Maker now," he spoke again from just above Hope. Fang whirled her spear, the first to react, as always, driving the point of the spear dangerously close to Hope's silver hair, a second behind the Sylph.

"Point that thing somewhere else!" Hope turned to shout, knocking the weapon away. Angry at Fang, unsurprisingly, he threw his boomerang as hard as he could at the warrior, who was quick to duck. Hope's weapon span out into the void of the Cradle, vanishing with a twinkle in the distance. A moment later, there was a Sylph flash, and the boomerang continued to whirl out, striking Hope and making him bend over, winded.

"Stop playing with us!" Lightning suddenly shouted, voice sounding desolate in the silent Cradle.

No reply.

"No," a weak, strained voice spoke up. Everyone turned, none faster than Hope. His father lifted his head, looking up, out over Orphan's Cradle. "You hurt my son," he spoke quietly, whether through menace or weariness they could not tell.

Barthendelus, unseen, still did not reply.

"Kill me," Bartholomew Estheim murmured, "Kill me and the door will close. He'll go."

"Dad, I-" Hope turned, voice gentler, struggling to speak

"I'm sorry," Bartholomew murmured, "My time was five hundred years ago. The knowledge you had not yet passed beyond this door was all that kept me going; now I must go across."

"I won't kill you," Hope sounded like a child

"Speak for yourself," Fang hoisted her spear up. Lightning lifted her blade to gently press the spear further up, so it would miss the father

"Give him his goodbyes," Lightning spoke quietly, softly to the warrior.

Something akin to sadness appeared in the Gran Pulsian's eyes. After a tense second, she silently nodded, slowly lowering her weapon.

"Hope," Bartholomew again talked to his son, tone mild, "You never knew I was alive, it shouldn't pain you to lose me."  
"Not again," Hope shook his head, "I couldn't take it last time."

"Yes you could."

"Huh?"

"I see through the eyes of the Sylph: I saw you recover."

"Don't do this dad…"

"How can I not? I want to protect you, to save you from the Sylph. If that means I must die, then so be it."

"I…"

"One thing though," Bartholomew Estheim interjected, "Look after Lightning, you know she needs it."

"Right," Hope gave a nervous chuckle

"Hold it!" Sazh cried, "You're not the only one we're gonna lose. The Sylph will go too."

"Dad," Dajh spoke quietly, his Sylph frame rising up to his father's shoulders, "You know we have to."

"I know," Sazh murmured, resigned, "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Please, don't make this harder, dad. You know what we have to do."

There was a moment of silence.

"Yeah," Sazh's voice cracked.

His next few motions were made in a slow, reluctant silence. His arm lifted, fingers curled tightly around his gun, index finger curled along the trigger, and middle finger pointing along the barrel. Past the tip of the metal, and through the air, in a straight line, stood a weakened Bartholomew Estheim.

Sazh looked away, using his free forearm to cover his eyes. He pulled the trigger.

"No!" Hope shouted.

The bullet shot out from the weapon. It moved agonizingly slowly: even though none of them could see it, much less stop it, the microseconds of its flight were just too much. It continued to pierce the air, gliding smoothly, moving past the crowd, until it was closer than any of them to Bartholomew.

For a split second, there was a flash of light. Barthendelus appeared above the bullet, cupping the bullet with one leaf. Before the light of his arrival had fully faded, he created another flash, vanishing with the bullet.

The bullet continued its path, through the air, this time from much farther back, teleported by Barthendelus. It struck flesh, before anyone was able to react to the fact it'd gone.

Vanille let out a gasp of sudden pain, collapsing to her knees. All eyes turned to the redhead, watching blood spread, blossoming over her breast.

"No!" Fang shouted, "Vanille!"

Serah made a motion to move towards her, to help.

"No!" Fang raised an arm, not even looking back at them, as she knelt beside the bleeding body.

"F-Fang," Vanille smiled, her eyes somehow still sparkling, "I'm fine."

"You're not, oh," Fang looked down across the redhead's limp, pale form, "What do you want, need? Anything?"

"Nothing, it-it doesn't hurt," Vanille winced as she straightened, sitting up, both arms clinging onto her binding rod.

"Liar," Fang smiled softly, a lone tear in her eye

"Pitiful," Barthendelus's sneering tones sounded from above them. "The wound is superficial. Had I wished to kill her, I would have already."

"You!" Fang shouted, fire in her eyes. With a speedy, gentle motion, she moved back from Vanille, blowing a kiss as she stood up. The raven haired Gran Pulsian whirled her spear in one hand, thumb fingering the clasp which would release it into three sections. With a scream, she leapt, narrowly missing the Sylph once again.

"Come out!" Fang shouted, furious, "Come on!"

The Sylph of Barthendelus flashed, behind Fang's head. She heard, and span, gaining first contact as she struck him, a light blow as he vanished immediately, but a blow nonetheless.

A shot of light whizzed through the air, also missing the vanishing Sylph. Fang shot a sideways glance to Serah, who had her pistol aimed at the area. "Don't," Fang muttered, lips pursed, cold, "He's mine." Her words were almost savage, making Serah take a step back.

The black haired Gran Pulsian had left the main huddle, and was stabbing at almost empty air. Each attack was punctuated with a shout or scream, of pain of fury, or of effort. Making sure to keep away from her, Lightning, Snow, Serah, Sazh, Dajh and Cid were in a small circle around Vanille. Hope was kneeling down, closer to his father than the others, not close enough to touch though: for fear of the door of souls.

Vanille gave a small whimper, supporting herself with just her binding rod. She felt the bloodstained bullet drop into her lap. She didn't dare think of the route it had taken; there was a burning pain on the right of her chest, coupled with a sense of being out of her body, almost delirious. She didn't dare look down, afraid of what the wound would look like.

Suppressing a scream, the redhead turned around, using her rod, pressing it as hard as she could into the ground, partly to distract herself from the agony, but also to aid her movement to face backwards. She looked through the crowd, the friends she couldn't remember. Beyond them, Fang was visibly taking part in what could only be described as a duel. She was thrusting her spear, motivated by the harm caused to Vanille, only succeeding in impaling diamonds of fading light.

If only she could help… Vanille sighed, tensing at the pain it caused.

Click. A red spear hesitated for a brief moment in the air. The opportunity was seized. In a diamond flash, the Sylph Barthendelus gripped Fang's spear, and vanished with it. The Gran Pulsian didn't seem perturbed by the loss of her weapon; she'd thumbed the catch. Barthendelus made a move to jab back at Fang.

Almost comically, the spear bent into its three main parts. The first two parts curled down, in front of Fang, giving the Gran Pulsian a chance to grab the wonky spear, and grab Barthendelus with her free hand. Smoothly, she whirled the spear, jabbing at the Sylph's frail neck.

Flash.

The spear went straight past, once again touching just light though, for less than a second, Fang felt a little resistance. She clicked the spear back into a straight line, spinning to see Barthendelus, relatively deep scratches over what amounted to his neck.

"That was for Dajh," Fang murmured, "This is for Vanille!" she sprinted forwards once more, ignoring her weariness, spear raised.

A tear in her eye, Vanille watched all this. She couldn't do anything to help. That was what was killing her; more than the pain of the bullet, more than the strain as she put all her weight on her arms and binding rod, the sense of being unable to do anything but watch as Fang fought. That was the worst.

Her eyes widened upon a thought.

Whimpering, the redhead turned around. Lightning and the others were at her side, fixated by the duel between Fang and the Sylph, and yet forbidden to help. Vanille giggled; that was Fang to a tee.

The redhead finished her movement, now facing away from Fang; now facing the door of souls.

Agony emanated from her wound, as she lifted her rod from the ground. She swayed a little, unsteady, still unable to fully focus. She felt like she was dreaming. Taking in a deep breath, and regretting it instantly, she moved the binding rod back. With a shout mixed with a scream, she flung it forwards.

The ropes shot out of the end, all moving through the door of souls. It was like water: that was her first observation. Each segment made the light ripple.

Vanille released her weapon fully, collapsing onto the ground, instinctively knowing she'd made her injury much, much worse. She could feel a sticky liquid seep out from beneath her. Silent, she looked up, watching her rod move through the air, as she closed her eyes.

The binding rod, the rope segments already beyond death, continued to fly. Bartholomew looked up at it, hopeful. The weapon continued its flight.

Distracted by Fang, until it was too late, Barthendelus heard Vanille's scream, but could not react in time. He felt sluggish, slow, and with one look at the door of souls, at the expression on Bartholomew Estheim's face, he knew that the father was exploiting his connection to the Sylph.

"Thank you," Bartholomew Estheim spoke softly. Hope looked up at him, expression turning from one of sadness, to one of sudden anger.

The binding rod was mostly composed of one, long branch, constructed long, long ago, up until the very end. The tip of it almost resembled antlers; with several buds of rope along each one. It was these antlers, two prongs, which moved either side of Bartholomew's neck. The rod continued its flight.

Unable to move himself, but able to be moved, Bartholomew Estheim drifted backwards, the binding rod continuing to move also. The hilt of the weapon vanished beyond the door of souls.

A few ripples passed across the light, and then it was still.

Upon Gran Pulse, Lebreau looked out of the hut. Swarm upon swarm of Sylph were gathering around her; she felt a pang of fear, had they found her? She knew she wouldn't be able to survive all of them, but she could try. As she watched, something very different happened. Her surprised eyes saw all the Sylph freeze on the spot, before, as if all in one, unfelt, soft breeze, they blew apart, like grains of sand, grains of white light. Seconds later, there was nothing.

Gadot chuckled at whatever anecdote he had told the shopkeeper, before he paused. He pointed out the window; instead of the rows of Sylph, there was a chain of white sparkles, moved along by a gentle wind, steadily vanishing.

Maqui knelt down, peering out over the windowsill. Sylph galloped over the race track: perhaps they'd been chocobos in their other life? Who knew, maybe Choco would come back as a Sylph! The thought was washed away as the Sylph turned to flocks of twinkling lights, each fine as sand, drifting away along the air.

Surprised, and more than a little irritated, Barthendelus looked down at his body, feeling momentarily unable to control it. A ripple of light passed over it. Before anything else could happen, he dissolved, white specks of light trickling and fading down through the air, until nothing was left.

The group stood still for many seconds.

The edges of the door of souls gradually began to close inwards, not fast by any means, but in a few minutes, nothing would be left.

"Vanille!" Fang gasped, hurrying over to the redhead. She knelt down, kindly caressing the redhead's skin, turning her over. She bit back a gasp at the spreading blood. Desperate, she brought her lips down, meeting Vanille's. The kiss lasted several seconds. The redhead was still.

"No…" Fang murmured weakly, disbelieving.

Lightning stood above Fang, a lone tear falling down her cheek. She wiped it away with a finger, hiding it.

Sensing the couple needed to be alone, Lightning stepped back from the grieving Fang. She saw Hope run out, down the translucent paths of Orphan's Cradle. The name seemed chilling in light of Bartholomew's sacrifice. Hope vanished as he left the area.

"Hope!" Lightning lifted an arm, as if to call him

"Let him go, sis," Snow muttered, quiet, "he needs time to think."

Dajh and Cid had also gone; too many lives had been lost.

Fang knelt down again, pressing her lips to Vanille's, clinging to the redhead. Nearby, a ghost of a ripple seemed to spread across the door of souls-which was almost half its previous size.

Vanille opened one eye, and upon feeling Fang, lifted her arms, though giving up on that upon feeling the pain of her bullet wound.

"You had me worried," Fang smiled weakly, breathless

"I got a kiss out of it," Vanille giggled, pulling herself up, getting to her feet through the pain, with the help of Fang.

Everyone was relieved to see the redhead once again moving.

The party started to move towards the exit; a portal, the one from so many years ago, leading to Gran Pulse. Fang and Vanille were behind the rest; barely past the shrinking door of souls, as Vanille hobbled forwards.

Each and every one of them froze in the same instant.

The air was shining.

_No!_

It couldn't be called a voice, not really, it was a silent thought, one shouted from every conceivable angle.

The Maker. She was still awake, even as the door drew shut, and she was coming.

The door of souls was barely seventy centimetres across. But now a soft, almost blurry light was coming out of it, the same shades as the sparkles in the air.

"Go! Everyone!" Fang shouted, hanging behind with Vanille.

Vanille whispered something to Fang.

The lights in the air doubled. Everyone was near the portal, when they looked back, to see Fang and Vanille, to find out how far they'd moved. They'd expected to see the duo hobbling quickly: they didn't. Instead, the two Gran Pulsians were by the door of souls, almost touching it.

They used their own bodies as a barrier, a shield, preventing anything coming through. The light was almost blinding, but the two, Fang and Vanille, stood firm, the door continued shrinking, but they remained. They knew: they couldn't let the Maker through.

"You know what?" Fang spoke over her shoulder, back at the group, "I'm almost sad I never knew you guys."

Lightning was about to run up to them, when the light flared for a moment. Everything went white, and she closed and covered her eyes.

Seconds ticked past.

As she reopened her eyes, the lights of the Maker had faded, the Maker's return had once more been averted. The door of souls had gone.

As had Fang and Vanille.

Sazh, Lightning, Snow and Serah stood alone in Orphan's Cradle.

Lightning paced forwards, towards the lost door to death. "We'll find them," she declared, "We'll get them back. I don't know how, but we will."

She hoped her promise didn't sound as empty as it felt.

_End of part 1._

_

* * *

_**Don't worry, I'm kidding about this being the last chapter! The story does change a little from now on, for obvious reasons. **

**This was the end of part 1. Hope you enjoyed, as always, please review, and I'll try and update soon. **


	28. Sleep

**Bit of a shorter chapter. Just introducing the newer plotlines, still some connection, but obviously some major changes. **

It looked like Gran Pulse, those were Vanille's first thoughts as she opened her eyes. The valley, Vallis Media, where the portal from Orphan's Cradle went. Though something was off; she frowned, getting up to her knees. There was a mild soreness over the right of her chest; like a bruise, but little more than that.

Still half-asleep, not fully aware, Vanille crawled a metre or so across the slightly grassy mud, picking up her binding rod, which lay discarded. Panting, she let her gaze rise. More people lay nearby.

"Fang?" Vanille murmured, crawling over to the nearest woman, who lay spread-eagled in the dirt, sari hanging loosely across her body. "Fang!" the redhead clambered over the raven haired woman, gently shaking the older woman.

"Nuh-urgh," Fang groaned, eyes flickering open. "Vanille?"

"Yep!" the redhead grinned giddily

"What happened?"

"No idea," Vanille slumped back, as Fang sat up, "Just woke up here."

"Looks like Vallis Media,"

"Yeah, I thought so."

"Looks different though, used to be stuff around here."

"The camp? Probably got cleared up."

"Mm, maybe. Asked him?" Fang pointed past Vanille. The redhead turned, to see a man, face down, garbed in a navy suit. He had a thin covering of brown/blonde hair.

Vanille bounced on her knees, along the ground, until she reached the stranger. Cautious, she nudged him, turning him over and exposing his face to the air and sky.

Fang and Vanille gasped, both moving back.

The man blinked a few times, before sitting up.

"Bartholomew Estheim," Fang identified, voice halting.

"That's-" he sat up, focusing on the two of them, "No, this isn't right, you shouldn't be here."

"Be where?" Vanille tilted her head

"Isn't it obvious? This is death."

"Death?" Fang recoiled suddenly in shock.

"I think so," another voice said from behind her. Fang turned around, to see Dajh: human, appearing just like he had the day the Sylph had killed him. "Look at him," he pointed out across the ground.

They followed his finger, to see another man, slowly getting up. The man had black hair, and wore a very pale suit, with a shoulder plate, a cape, and several belts.

"Cid Raines," Fang stated, rolling her eyes

"You recognize him?" Dajh quickly interjected, surprised

"`Course," Fang shrugged, before frowning, "I didn't realize, couldn't remember back then before. Heh, what'd I expect, a fanfare when my memories returned?"

"Your memories haven't gone anywhere," Cid joined the conversation, dusting himself down, "You've gone to them. They were in death: now you are."

"How?" Vanille turned, frowning, "How'd we die?"  
"You tell me," Cid chuckled, an odd action for him, reminding everyone watching he'd changed during his years as a Sylph. "None of us were there."

"I don't-" Vanille paused.

_White light; almost blinding. They felt the Maker pressing at them, but somehow, She was weakened, possibly by the force of every Sylph pressing back through the door. Vanille had an arm tightly wrapped around Fang, with her other hand hooked around the edge of the door. Her gun shot wound ached, but she didn't give in. Then everything went white. The door pulsed outwards, and as it sealed itself, she had a glimpse of trees and grass, like Gran Pulse…_

"I remember," Vanille chirped, "We fell through."

"With…" Fang paused, looking around, "Is the Maker here? She's supposed to be."

"She's on a different level." Bartholomew spoke up. Everyone looked at him.

"How'd you know that?" Fang frowned

"Five hundred years," he shrugged, expression haunted, "Half dead, half alive. I heard a few things, one of them being the structure of death. I picked it up from a wanderer; it wasn't fun, people go insane when they're here too long."

"Well, what'd he tell you?" Fang prompted impatiently

"Now we're in, for want of a better word, limbo, the domain between life and death. It looks exactly like Gran Pulse, unchanged by humanity, mostly, but in some areas the barrier is thinner. One being Orphan's Cradle; the door of souls. The wanderer mentioned a place called Devil's Peak too-"

"That's where we became Ragnarok the first time!" Vanille squeaked, shivering, unwilling to relive that particular memory

"That explains it," Bartholomew continued, "That place is also weaker. There are other spots, but he didn't say them all. People aren't meant to linger here, according to the wanderer there are several other levels of death, some which erase the person who enters, some which are similar to this, actually the wanderer said he was just guessing' he didn't go down any of those paths. Mostly, people tend to go straight into those areas, real death, but I guess, the route being blocked by the Sylph and the Maker, we're here."

"All very well," Cid murmured, "But what do we actually do? I for one will not give up my life without good reason."

"We could find the wanderer," Bartholomew shrugged, "They know more about this place. A few spirits didn't go through limbo, if we run into any of them, they'd help."

"As good a plan as any," Fang shrugged.

"So that's the plan?" Dajh queried

"Yep," Fang nodded smartly, marching a little way down the path. She passed the point where the Cie'th stone once lay, and all at once she seemed to vanish.

A second or so later, Fang reappeared, further away. She frowned a little, shaking her head, disorientated. Curious, she turned around and took a step back, to where the Cie'th stone was. Again, she disappeared. Well, mostly. Upon peering closer, Vanille noticed she was still, vaguely, there: there was an outline, a slight colouring in the air, the colour and shape of it suggesting Fang, while the texture was more that of a Cie'th stone.

"That was odd," Fang muttered, stepping out of the small area, blinking, "Thought I could see Light for a moment there."

"You vanished," Vanille supplied

"I did? No wonder it felt strange."

"So, daddy," Vanille turned to Bartholomew, "Whatcha think? You sound like the expert."

"I'm not sure," he admitted, "It sounds like one of the areas the wanderer mentioned, closer to life."

"You mean I was alive back then?" Fang spoke, surprised

"Not as such," Bartholomew shook his head," But you did touch the realm. For want of a better word, you were a ghost."

"Not as bad as the Sylph I hope," Dajh tried to inject some humour into the situation, "Just hope we don't run into any of them."

"We should not," Cid replied, "We've become human again, no reason to suspect the others have not."

"Barthendelus isn't here," Vanille squeaked, "He should be with us."

"Don't complain!" Fang chuckled

"He is fal'Cie," Cid replied, "I believe they go elsewhere upon death, else he would have thanked you when he fell. The Maker may have called him to her side, but now the door is sealed, and she is banished. Barthendelus is elsewhere."

"First good thing I've heard all day," Fang grunted, marching down the path to begin the search from the 'wanderer'.

X

The crimson sky had faded to grey, and the translucent ground was becoming gradually clearer. Without its founder, Orphan's Cradle was dying.

And yet, still, Lightning stood in the centre of it, the only one left. Sazh, Snow and Serah were on Gran Pulse, through the portal, and Hope was long gone. Still, Lightning stood there. The outlines of the door of souls, gone, the light itself, gone.

"Where are you?" Lightning almost whispered the words. The ground beneath her feet was like scuffed glass, almost transparent.

A gasp escape her lips as, momentarily, the floor turned to little more than void. Eyes closed in irritation, she walked, quickly, to the portal, leaving the Cradle. The ground flickered as she stepped across it.

The Cradle was dead.

Lightning straightened her neck, blinking, stretching after the few seconds of madness as she was transported to Gran Pulse. Either side of the valley, huge cities were visible, though in the centre, the depths of the valley where Lightning and her siblings in-law stood, there was no sign of industrialization, except for a length of rope preventing anyone falling off the edge.

"You done, sis?" Snow lean on one of the rope

"Cradle started fading. I couldn't stay," Lightning sighed, looking around, "Where's Sazh?"

"Gone to see NORA and Alexi," Serah responded this time, "I think he's trying to distract himself. It can't be easy to lose Dajh again, I don't know what I'd do if I lost Alexi."

"Hope?" Lightning asked

"He wasn't with you?" Serah frowned, "I didn't see him go through the portal."

"Must still be there," Lightning pursed her lips, tentatively stepping back through the portal. She was aware of a moment of darkness, a flash of light, and then she stumbled forwards onto a rope. Muttering, she turned around.

"The portal just went," Snow stated

"I noticed," Lightning muttered back through gritted teeth, "Which means if Hope, Fang or Vanille are up there, they're stuck there."

"For now," Snow added, trying to be optimistic.

"I guess," Lightning sighed. Her eyes widened; "I know where they've gone!"

"Hope?" Serah tilted her head

"No, Fang and Vanille. They were over the door when they went away: they must've fallen through."

"No…" Serah gasped, aghast, "They can't be…dead."

"I promised we'd get them back, remember?"

"You can't just bring someone back to life!" Snow replied

"I had an education in the Corps, you?" Lightning's lip curled at the chance to taunt Snow, "I don't understand this whole death-thing, but if you've noticed, people don't physically go there: but Fang and Vanille did. That's got to mean something."

"The Maker went through," Serah pointed out

"The Maker almost came back," Lightning shot back

"So, what," Snow gestured with his hands, "You're planning to become Ragnarok to get the two of them back? Sorry sis, but it sounds like you're trying to see what isn't there."

"Like you could lecture me about that," Lightning snorted, "I'm not leaving them behind again."

As Lightning finished that sentence, a blurred form appeared in the air for a split second just next to them. Frowning, she turned towards it. Moments later, Fang seemed to appear in the air, almost transparent. The raven haired Gran Pulsian seemed as if she was about to say something, before she vanished.

"Well that's that," Lightning was the next to speak, "They're close."

"To be honest, death doesn't seem to mean much after the Maker was that close," Snow conceded, "Alright, what the hell? Might as well try."

"Yeah," Serah nodded, "They were my friends too."

"So, where'd we start?" Snow asked

"We need to find out what we can about death. Remember Sollo?"

"That historian?" Serah murmured

"Yeah, his family seemed to carry on with his job when I visited them" Lightning shrugged, "If anyone can tell us about the Gran Pulsian legends of death, it's them."

"We've got a plan," Snow punched his hands together.

"But first, you might want to get out the way," Lightning gave them a rare, exhilarated smile, before taking off at a sprint.

Confused, but knowing to trust Lightning, the Villiers couple backed away a little, subconsciously avoiding the area where the apparition of Fang had appeared. A few minutes later, once the couple had made their way a fair distance up Vallis Media, they witnessed Lightning herding a smallish Adamantoise down the valley. Its sides were covered in mud. They watched as it fell, toppling over the cliff.

X

"No!" the man's voice could be heard all around the room. Moments later, he stumbled forwards, into a large, bronze area covered in shattered glass, now little more than dust.

Hope walked slowly, carefully, down the ancient halls of Eden, past scratched corridors, to an ancient hall where he remembered a huge Adamantoise pacing the length of the street. Seemingly preserved, most probably by the Sylph, its skull lay, looming, morbid, haunting, in the centre of the torn road.

Hope had fled the Cradle, only he'd taken a different route. As he ran, he found himself in Eden, the stone and metal passages. He kept running, tears blurring his vision, unable to accept once more losing his father. But more than that, he felt a burning rage.

Like against snow, all those years ago, only worse. Some things just can't be grown out of; and the effect of losing a parent was one of them. Losing his last parent though, to the one he considered a friend, it was too much.

Minutes, hours, or days later, he stopped running, only to collapse to his knees, panting, near one of the many dwellings in Eden. It was surprisingly well preserved: probably an instinct of the Sylph which had once lived there. Not that he cared; his mind was whirling.

With a shout, he let off his anger by delivering a powerful kick to one of the buildings. It easily withstood the blow, as strong as the day it was made, and didn't do anything to relieve Hope's emotions.

Needing to hide somewhere, not caring about the needs of the long-dead inhabitants, Hope ran into the house, easily opening the door. It took him seconds to look around the hall, to find the layout of the house, and less than that again to find the settee. He curled up and wept.

Some things just shouldn't happen: those were his thoughts. Some people shouldn't die, some people shouldn't kill, some people shouldn't betray friends, some people shouldn't have to watch every crumble away. It might have been naïve of him, but it was what he thought.

He could still remember precisely every last detail of the day in Hanging Edge when his mother died. Now his father had also lost his life, and, and he was just supposed to continue, forgive and forget.

Not this time.

Outside of those three words however, he had no idea what he should do. A spur of the moment run, and he was here: the only living thing in the shell of Cocoon. Alone. Unutterably so.

A whistling pervaded the air. Hope looked up, over his knees. There shouldn't be anything here; not now. Tense, he quickly got to his feet, seizing the distraction. More whistling. He looked out the window, trying to find the source of the noise. Moments later, he saw a light streak through the sky, almost smoking, a pale blur, illuminating the land around it. It was much brighter than the sunlight barely getting through the shattered shell of Cocoon and the thick crystal within.

Curious now, Hope left the house, running down the road, each forceful step discharging a little of his frustration. The streak of light drew to a halt as it hit the ground, with a loud thud, and decelerated as it rubbed along the coarse road, whistling becoming deeper, turning into something akin to a human's cry. Hope continued running, several hundred metres went by, until he stopped.

He fell to his knees, dusting the grit and soot away. There was something small, something that had buried itself in the stone. Debris was thrown away, and Hope fell back, gasping.

Laying in the road, curled up, blackened by dust, was the limp figure of a Sylph.

X

"There!" Vanille shouted as the group made their way out the valley.

Everyone turned to where the redhead as pointing. Seemingly stepping out of thin air, a huge Adamantoise was falling into the canyon, front legs flailing madly as it toppled, somehow righting itself on the lower ground.

The ground shook as it took a slow step. Everyone made the easy effort to outrun it, save for Fang, who glanced back.

"Give me a sec," the raven haired Gran Pulsian flashed a cheeky grin.

With that, Fang sprinted across the dirt, weaving between the huge creature's legs. She leapt out the side, clinging onto the cliff wall. With just minimal struggle, and with the aid of the adamantoise's tusk, she climbed most of the way up the valley, and saw the muddy designs along the creature's side.

Not designs, so much as writing. It was mud, and it was all to precise, and huge, to just be coincidence.

"Lightning…" Fang chuckled, before jumping across the creature's back, and reading the other side.

Satisfied, she ran back to the others, the text whirling around her head. Just two words on either side.

STAY SAFE

WE'RE COMING


	29. Recovery

**First off, a bit of slightly bad news. Next week I'll be on holiday and so probably won't be able to write. Sorry!  
Anyway, part 2 continues. I couldn't stop smiling as I wrote the end of this chapter, so I hope you enjoy. **

It opened its eyes slowly, weak. Last thing it remembered… Light, lots of light, and people moving like a torrential storm. It had, no, he, he was a he, he was sure. He had moved, ran, weaved, hoped. A pale, inhumanely so, face, a smile with lifeless lips, and yet, such a kind smile. And this.

Above him, he could see a roof. A house? A very dark one. He stretched an arm, feeling strange.

"You're awake?" he heard a voice across the room. He sat up, to see a silver haired man sitting next to a wall.

Hope stared across the room, at the bed. The Sylph-was it a Sylph?-lay there, stirring. By rights, he felt as if he should've killed the Sylph, but only until he really saw it. For one, it was no longer controlled by the Maker: its human cry evidenced that. Also, most Sylph should've died, so it shouldn't be here. Curiosity was as good a reason as any. Thirdly, it didn't look quiet normal: instead of three 'leaves', as Sylph normally had, this one had only two. Not to mention, it was slightly longer, taking on more human proportions.

"Where am I?" the Sylph croaked in the voice of a human man.

"Cocoon," Hope murmured, "How did you get here?"

"I ran," the Sylph creature spoke with a strained voice. It wasn't that his voice was distorted or anything, it just sounded, well, _wrong _coming from the mouth of the non-Sylph body, unsettling. "So far."

"So far?"  
"A long way. There were floods coming towards me, I went towards their source. I was a wanderer, that's what I was told by the Guardian, he was at the centre of the stampede. I slipped through the stampede, and came here, a place of death."

"Where were you before?"

"Fields," the Sylph-creature replied simply, "I'm unsure. All I remember is light."

"Fields?" Hope muttered, frowning, "And who's this Guardian?"

"The Guardian was in the light, between the fields and the city of death."

"I might know what happened," Hope leant forwards, cheered by his new discovery, "What was there before you went to the fields?"

"I don't-" the Sylph frowned, "Fire. Too much fire, and something small, pale- I wish I knew what it was called."

"What's _your _name?"

"I do not know," the man's voice came out of pursed lips, "But I have remembered the name of the creatures. They are Sylph."

"Sylph!" Hope recoiled, "I was right, those fields… You were dead."

"Dead? I…how can that sound so right?" the Sylph wrapped two unnaturally long leaves around itself

"The light between must be the door of souls, and the Guardian…" Hope's eyes widened, "Dad!"

"Your father was the Guardian? In that case, I am in your debt, though I do not fully understand it, the Guardian told me many things. My proximity to those Sylph upon my," he stumbled, "death made me what he called a wanderer. He said there was another wanderer also, whom I never met."

"If you're interested, you're the last Sylph. You must've slipped back through the door before those two," Hope gritted his teeth, "Could block it."  
"Sylph?" the creature sounded literally shocked, "How am I Sylph/ I am human! I am-" he paused, looking down at his body. "No…"

"It happened to a lot of people," Hope shrugged. "Wish I could help."

The two sat in silence for a while, the 'Sylph' adopting an almost human pose, his body a rough sketch of a man's, what one might look like if hurriedly made from clay. Hope peered across the darkened room, curious.

"You're sure you can't remember who you are?" Hope insisted

"I'm sure," the Sylph sighed, "Anyone else who can help?"

"Not here," Hope shrugged, "This is Cocoon."

"So?"

"No one else is here," Hope leant forwards, "We're the only ones. I really shouldn't be here, I just am."

"So, if we want help, we're screwed, that what you're saying?" the Sylph suddenly rattled off the vulgar phrase, in contrast to its previous, polite, formal tones.

"Y-yeah," Hope nodded.

"Let us just hope we don't need it," the Sylph slumped, relaxing again in an unsettlingly human fashion. While Hope knew most Sylph had previously been human, it was just disconcerting to see one act so unchanged.

The Sylph gave a wince, the rattling breath that came out of its mouth all too human. Hope's eyes snapped up; "You hurt?"

"Mm," the Sylph didn't seem to want to admit the weakness, he used one leaf to point to the leaf lying by his left, "Arm-thing's killing. Flared up when I tried to roll."

"That's the arm you landed on," Hope noted, walking over to the Sylph; as he approached it, it struck him that the creature's body was also close to human. It was a fair bit taller than the other Sylph, a bit taller than Hope remembered actually, the tips of the arm-leaves were frayed a little, like vestigial fingers.

Ever-gentle, Hope ran a finger softly across the limb, feeling for any irregularities. There was a stubborn irregularity about halfway up the leaf.

"Ever treat a dead guy before?" the Sylph grunted, voice again dissolving from his almost gentlemanly tones, to coarse grunts.

Hope didn't reply, wincing inside as the words brought back painful memories of being just above his father as he died the first time. Halyard Lee Wevos, the gunner, the assassin, and yet even he hadn't come close to the recent pain: the second loss, by the hand of his friends.

"This might hurt," the words came off as little more than a whisper from Hope's lips.

He found it easier to speak the words here; there was little natural light penetrating the thick crystal around them, leaving Cocoon in almost absolute darkness. With the sun setting, it was an effort to see centimetres ahead; let alone the dozen towards the Sylph.

"I know pain," the Sylph replied, "I'll survive."

"Sorry," Hope tensed, pressing the irregularity in the Sylph's arm _hard_. There was a click and a muffled yowl, before Hope stepped back.

"That was unpleasant," the Sylph remarked mildly, lifting up the still mildly sore joint and waving it through the air, "How did you know that would work?"

"I didn't" Hope admitted, "Figured you wouldn't want to know that. It felt like a dislocation, I tried to fix it."

"Well," the Sylph muttered, "Good job."

A few moments later, Hope heard the Sylph speak again; "Do you mind moving off now? I'm tired and I cannot sleep with you above me."

"Sorry," Hope tensed his shoulders, yawning himself.

Taking extra care to be silent, Hope stepped away from the bed, the outline of the figure vanishing into darkness seconds after.

He tried to curl up and sleep on the sofa, which he found after a few minutes' fumbling. Annoyed, he found he couldn't, it was increasingly cold, and there was some instinct in him that made him want to keep looking over his shoulder, through the almost opaque blackness, keep an eye on the distorted Sylph.

Several minutes later, Hope quietly got up, dragging his feet to find a smooth route along the floor, until he found a rolled up rug by the wall. Apparently the family who'd lived here had salvaged what supplies they could, but not the rug. Not that he blamed them; a rug would probably be pretty useless on Pulse.

Taking the fabric roll beneath his arm, the silver haired man felt his way along the walls, stopping at what felt like a smooth, polished sheet of wood. For what was no doubt one of many, many times he would do so, Hope thanked the Sylph that they'd preserved Cocoon so perfectly. The main issue was food, but he could deal with that later.

The sheet of wood was pulled aside easily, revealing it was in fact the door of a now empty wardrobe. After measuring its length, Hope lay inside it, holding the rug over himself. He drew the door shut, sealing himself, snuggled under the rug, in the small wardrobe, knees bent a little so he could fit.

Hope closed his eyes, feeling more secure in the small space. Silent, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

X

"Fang!" Vanille hopped across the rugged landscape, "Why is death about as tiring as life?" the redhead panted for a moment, before leaping ahead to catch up to the leading, confidently striding raven haired Gran Pulsian.

"Why are you still dressed?" Fangs hot back

"Fang!" Vanille giggled, hopping back, before skipping forward again, "Dajh is watching! He's just a kid, or he was anyway."

"Not what I meant, and you say _I'm _dirty minded," Fang chuckled, "Your clothes shouldn't have died, why are they here?"

"I dunno," Vanille murmured doubtfully, "With you around, it feels like they've died enough."

"Ha, ha," Fang rolled her eyes, pronouncing the mock-laugh carefully

"We didn't come through properly though did we?" Vanille shrugged,

"Doesn't explain away Dajh."

"Maybe we just come through as we were. I've got a bit of a bruise where Barthendelus shot me."

"You have?" Fang stopped, halting to walk back over to Vanille.

"Where is it?" the elder Gran Pulsian whispered, comforting

"Here," Vanille replied, just as quiet, playing with the right of her pink top.

Tender, Fang pulled the fabric down. A pale darkening of the skin was visible over her breast, a patch about a finger's length across. Fang bent forwards to lightly kiss it, withdrawing as she heard a shout from Dajh.

"You two at it again?" his tone was light-hearted

"Any better ideas?" Fang shouted back, Fang's finger lightly brushing over a sensitive part of Vanille, as the elder Gran Pulsian pulled the top back up. "We've been walking in circles for hours!"

"We're finding the wanderer," Cid spoke, catching up to them although his pace didn't appear hurried, "While we may not know where it is, we must still look."

"So we _are _going in circles?" Fang frowned, "You do know I was just kidding about that?"

"Not circles," Bartholomew caught up with them, "We're heading to where the capital should be, plenty of Sylph would've died there."

"Yeah, great," Fang threw her arms up in the air, "Just what we need!"

"The Sylph are no longer such creatures," Cid interjected, "They will appear as human as us, and may know useful information."  
"As human as you?" Vanille squeaked, "You were half-Cie'th before!"

"Not any more," Cid coolly responded. "Let us hope the Maker has retreated far enough into death so that Her influence no longer holds sway."

"Is she really that powerful?" Bartholomew queried, beginning to lead the group over the fields.

"You wouldn't believe it," Dajh shivered, "You were never a proper Sylph. It took complete concentration all the time to not give in, She isn't so much powerful as persuasive."

"Mm," Cid echoed, "Temptation is Her greatest weapon. I don't doubt, had I lived much more, I too would have given in."

"I'm glad we don't have to deal with her," Vanille giggled, before pausing mid-hop, "Will we?"

"Nah," Fang shook her head, "We're trying to come back to life, that's enough hassle."

"We shouldn't," Dajh smiled at Fang's flippant response, "Apart from persuasive, the Maker is also patient. It'll be centuries before she tries anything again, she went five hundred years on the brink after all."

"I hope so," Fang shrugged.

They fell into a haunted silence. Bartholomew, the one with a specific aim in his head, lead them onwards, past the eerily desolate land. They'd expected the land of death to be full of people, but instead it seemed like everyone had gone 'on', to whatever was truly in death.

Behind Hope's father, Dajh and Cid walked side by side. They'd shared a mind, and had both gone through life as a Sylph. Both knew, no one else would understand how it felt to have your thoughts thrown open so freely, to have a seductive voice calling their names, much less how it felt to be completely unable to control their own, and yet not their own, body. The subconsciously relied upon each other, they understood each other.

Hanging back, Fang and Vanille moved along. Fang strode with easy, confident steps, her hand swinging as it remained clasped with Vanille, who was hopping and jumping from every bit of elevated land. The redhead was laughing, enjoying herself despite the near-hopelessness of their situation.

"You…you think Hope will forgive us?" Vanille squeaked quietly to Fang

"I," Fang began, pausing, before finally responding, "I dunno. Poor kid."

"He's not a kid any more," Vanille wagged a finger, giggling.

"I know," Fang shrugged, "Hard to think of him as otherwise though."

"Maybe, if we can get back, we can bring his dad!" Vanille bounced

"Talking about me?" Bartholomew shouted, before slowing his pace to reach them

"She thinks you should come with us, if we get alive again," Fang replied

"No," the man shook his head, "It's a long shot, even if we could I wouldn't go back."

"Huh?" Vanille tilted her head

"I've lost my life twice, I've no desire to do it again. My son needs to move on, if I did anything else it would just be selfish."

"Don't think he'll forgive us a third time," Vanille sighed

"Huh?" Bartholomew frowned

"We killed you, remember?" the redhead giggled in spite of the morbid words, "I was there when his mother died, and we lost our parents too."

"He'll forgive you," Bartholomew shook his head, "He's just a bit overwhelmed right now."  
"You didn't see his face," Vanille murmured quietly, unheard, to herself, as they moved back into their walking formation, heading towards where they assumed flocks of ex-Sylph would now be.

Once more, the group descended into quiet. They'd long since left Vallis Media, or whatever the name of the equivalent was, and instead were making their way across the top of the valley.

Oddly, the only two who were becoming gradually tired out by the long haul were Fang and Vanille, but being used to the rigorous demands of Gran Pulse, they could easily bear it. The others of the group, having died 'properly', found they weren't worn out, until they started to think about it.

Apart from the Adamantoise when they'd arrived, they hadn't encountered much wildlife. It wasn't totally surprising: not much would have died in the vicinity of Vallis Media, so not much would be near them. It was still a little unsettling though; they felt as if, at any moment, something would jump out at them. Gran Pulse was never this deserted; even in the modern, industrialized cities, people rarely strayed outside without armoured vehicles or guards. The Guardian Corps were called out almost daily with a new report of a monster attack on some city.

"You know what's gonna be really fun?" Dajh chuckled, remembering something

"I can think of a few things," Fang winked at Vanille, who giggled

"It's back in the real world, well, the living world."

"What?" Vanille squeaked, tilting her head

"I saw Light and the rest running through the cities, and when I picked them up. People had recognized them; just outside the shop where I got them, there was a crowd at the window."

"Seriously?" Vanille gasped

"Yeah, and what's more," Dajh continued, "You know why Light always wore that hood everywhere? She hated the attention, she was all to keen to go to crystal stasis first time round, and never took the hood off the rest of the time. Hated the attention, she felt like she should earn it, and now she's stuck in the spotlight."

"Isn't that a little cruel?" Cid joined the conversation, cheeks tense in an effort not to smile, though his voice didn't betray it

"You didn't hear her complaining," Dajh replied

"Actually I did. Sylph too, remember?"

"Yeah," Dajh nodded slowly, before picking up again, "You've got to admit, she was a little excessive. The hood wasn't necessary, everyone else went by without it."

"Kind of necessary," Fang commented, "If she got recognized without it."

"Suppose so," Dajh shrugged, "But still, there's nothing wrong with being recognized."

"You had nothing to worry about," Cid interjected, "You were ten, no one would recognize you now."

"True," Dajh chuckled.

Their conversation was interrupted by a distant chirrup. Dajh's eyes widened, ears taking in the familiar noise. He span around quickly, to see a tall yellow bird barrelling towards him. With a 'Kweh', it stopped just in front of him, rubbing its warm, feathered neck on Dajh's front in the bird-equivalent of a hug.

"Choco," Dajh gasped, grinning, running his hand down its long neck, petting it. "You'd never leave us, huh?"

It responded with another Kweh.

Quietly watching the reunion, Vanille formed a square with her fingers, in an old Gran Pulsian prayer, smiling. It was somehow comforting, she had the feeling someone was helping them. Cid had received an Eidolon, despite being a Sylph, and now Choco had found them again: it felt as if Etro Herself was aiding them. Not that it was surprising: if Etro was the Goddess of the door of souls, how must it have felt to have the Maker trying to pull through?

"Thank you," the redhead whispered, almost silent, before looking back up at Dajh.

Dajh cooed, straightening and brushing the muddied, ruffled feathers of the bird. He whispered soothing words to the chocobo, amazed to see his old friend.

"Hey, Vanille!" Fang called, hooking her arm in the redhead's, "I just remembered something."

"What now?" Vanille giggled

"You promised something."

"When was this?" she tilted her head, amused

"Just before we forgot."

"The wedding?"

"Yeah."

"What I promise?"

"You don't remember?" Fang frowned

"I remember something," Vanille giggled, "Don't know if it's what you're thinking of."

"Well what is it?"

"Nuh-uh, you first!"

"I asked it the first time,"

"Yep," Vanille nodded eagerly

"So you know what it is?"

"Maybe."

"You just want me to say it again, huh?"

"Yep," the redhead giggled

"I'm not gonna then." Fang folded her arms.

"Huh?" Vanille blinked. She hopped on the spot, waving her arm madly in front of the non-responsive Fang. The elder Gran Pulsian bit back a smile that threatened to curl her lips.

Pouting, Vanille stomped away, sideways so as not to disturb the emotional Dajh. Then, smiling, she bounced around the slightly open field, until she was behind Fang, and jumped towards the raven haired woman, throwing her arms around her neck.

Fang jumped at the sudden contact, before chuckling, seeing Vanille's face peer over her shoulder.

"Gonna say it yet?" Fang muttered, smiling

"Maybe," the redhead bounced away, giggling.

A few moments later, Vanille hopped in front of Fang, tilting her head,

"Fang," Vanille drew out the word into a cute query

"Yeah?"

"You really not going to say it?"

"I want you to say it this time."

"And you're not going to change your mind?"

"You'll see,"

"_Fang_…" Vanille pouted.

She paused

"When this is all over," Vanille continued, before seemingly tripping up.

Fang reached down with one arm, to help the redhead up. With a graceful motion and a smile, Vanille took Fang's hand, but instead of standing, she just raised her head.

"Will you marry me?" Vanille tilted her head, finishing off the proposal with a shy giggle

"Of course," Fang replied, "Please tell me you didn't doubt that," she finished, before pulling Vanille into a passionate, meaningful kiss.


	30. Off Balance

**Ok, um, *cowers*.  
Sorry this took so long! Holiday in NY + jet lag = bad time for writing. Might not be my best towards the end, but at least it's something.  
Sorry in advance for future delays/shorter chapters. It takes a little while to get back into the swing of things. **

"The sightings are everywhere," Lightning, now discarding the hood for her normal Guardian Corps uniform, marked a cross with a marker pen, on a map of Gran Pulse that was already littered with the marks. "Just for a few seconds, like how we saw Fang, people they thought had died."

"That's new," Snow commented

"We figured that," Lightning rolled her eyes. "No official consensus yet, but they don't know what we know: the Maker has pressed the borders of life and death. In some places, ghosts look like they're coming through."

"How far through?" Serah squeaked

"Nothing physical," Lightning replied, after a few seconds' browsing the reports, "they've been seen, and they've reacted to seeing us, but they haven't been able to touch anything. In some cases, they've passed straight through things."

"Anyone seen Fang?" Serah frowned

"Afraid not," Lightning shook her head, "Not yet at least, NORA are out collecting rumours."

"Weren't we meant to be seeing Sollo?" Snow interjected

"Nah," Serah replied this time, "Sazh volunteered before you got here. He's trying to distract himself again, I think."

"Mama?" a cute, very young, about four or five, girl's voice floated up from another room.

"Coming Alexi!" Snow called, voice suddenly tender, "I should go sis, we've been seeing too little of her in the recent chaos."

Lightning curtly nodded, lips pressed together, to be rewarded with a beaming smile and a sudden embrace from Serah. "Thanks Claire."

The couple left the room, to be gratefully reunited with their daughter. An expression akin to a soft melancholy touched Light's features, before the soldier stood up, to leave the family alone. She walked confidently out the door, hardening her features.

A mere few steps outside, she froze, seeing another familiar face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" a woman with black and red hair spoke the words, half-crying, half-cold

"Sorry Asura," Lightning replied after a second, "We only just found out ourselves, didn't want to worry you."

"Worry me? Hope's been left behind on Cocoon and you're afraid of worrying me?" she almost shouted the words, before an apologetic expression crossed her face, "Sorry, I lose control sometimes," she shrugged, shaking her head, "Still, what happened? How could you just leave him?"

"We didn't choose to," Lightning shook her head, "He ran off."

"Ran off?"

"He was angry, his father was in the Cradle-"

"Him?" Asura interjected, "How was he there?"

"If you'd let me finish-"

"Sorry," Asura bit back a silent giggle

Lightning coughed

"Okay, carry on."

"Thank you," Lightning rolled her eyes, sardonic, "He was trapped between life and death, he's the reason the Maker was being called. Vanille killed him, forced him back into death."

"No wonder Hope was mad," Asura breathed, appalled, "It's just wrong his father was used like that, and he had to lose him again."

"We are trying to find him, you know," Lightning replied, voice gentler

"Stop kidding," Asura shook her head, "I can always tell when you're lying, you're trying to find Fang and Vanille."

"W-"

"Oh, I don't blame you, Hope can take care of himself, right? That's what you've been thinking for the last few hundred years. Y'know, you're right, just, that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

"Can I get a word in?"

"No," Asura laughed, "Just promise me you'll find those two, `k?"

"Those two?" Lightning paused, "What about Hope?"

"I'm the one who loves him," Asura responded,

"We love him too," Lightning interjected

"Not in the same way I hope," Asura giggled

"No, I-" Lightning shook her head, "Forget it, not the same…" she paused, "You two don't…" the soldier let then sentence hang

"Don't…" Asura echoed, before blushing a deep crimson, "Come on Light, seriously? You really want an answer?"

The soldier was silent.

"Anyway," Asura enunciated clearly, blatantly changing the subject, still bright red, "I'll do what I can to find him, you can try too but please, not at the exclusion of Vanille."

"And Fang," Lightning finished

"Yeah, and Fang." Asura shrugged, "Still one condition though."

"Condition for what?" Lightning wasn't amused

"Condition for me to leave you alone," Asura took a break to give a quick laugh,

"What is it?" Lightning sighed, midway between frustrated and amused,

"Help me when I call."

"Call? Asura, we're not going to just stop looking for them."

"Nothing like that," the woman shook her head, "I'm going to be doing what I can for Hope too, if I find anything that needs you, I'll call."

"Fine," Lightning nodded curtly, "Is that all?"

"Tell Alexi I'm sorry I couldn't turn up today," Asura replied, skipping in an almost Vanille-style fashion away, "So long Lightning!"

The pink haired soldier stood in the street for a moment longer as Hope's girlfriend departed, before she too began to walk away. Lightning turned to walk down the street.

She was lost in thought: they could focus on Fang and Vanille now, Asura was searching for Hope, for a way to Cocoon. Well, at the very least, she had the motivation.

And Fang and Vanille… for all the hope she expressed, for the self-assured façade she put up, she was afraid. They'd lost their lives, maybe not in a 'normal' way, but still, they had died. Any promise she made to rescue the couple felt empty on her tongue.

A trail of gasps drew her out of her reverie. Lightning looked up, and around. There didn't seem to be anything special, only the few people in the street had stopped moving. Momentarily, she stilled; had they recognized her? But instead, it seemed, she wasn't the biggest issue. Well, that made a change.

It took Lightning a couple more seconds to actually focus; there was one person who was still walking, unaffected by whatever had stunned the others. It seemed to Lightning that the man was literally walking through the kerb; his ankles rested on the pavement, and his feet appeared to sink into it.

It was another of the ghosts.

Suddenly curious, the pink haired soldier ran through the crowd, a couple of awed gasps greeting her as people noticed her.

"You!" Lightning halted just centimetres behind the figure, while her arm kept moving. It reached forwards, to the wrist of the translucent ghost.

For the briefest moment, her fingers brushed the man's arm. He turned a few degrees with a curious noise, almost a creak. His eyes widened, seemingly reacting to seeing Lightning, but before anything else could happen, he vanished unwillingly, like smoke in the wind.

Stumbling, the soldier paused, looking up and around, through the air. He had almost been solid, like- like Orphan's Cradle had been, fading, but still there. Still certainly there.

Something was wrong; there shouldn't be this many phantasms. It was almost like the Sylph again, except the Sylph were more present. These visions came from the same place, and yet were less substantial, less _there_.

Chaotic. That was the word she wanted, the modern dead seemed more chaotic, more like an accident, compared to the meticulous planning of the Sylph. The ghosts had no purpose.

The borders were blurred. Lightning murmured that to herself softly; life and death. Polar opposites apparently, and yet now, the dead were seeping back, albeit not properly.

Well, she'd get it to work properly. Fang and Vanille deserved to return, and she would bloody well try the same with Bartholomew, Dajh, even Cid.

"Excuse me?" A timid sounding man's voice made the soldier sharply term, "Is it really you?" he spoke quietly, shaking

"Why?" Lightning rolled her eyes. This was the last thing she needed; publicity

"It's just," the man stuttered, "You look exactly like her."

"Right," Lightning attempted to sound as sceptical as possible, "Can I go?"

Without waiting for an answer, she walked away. The crowd parted around her, as the pink haired soldier thought: how could she save them?

X

"Just over there!" Dajh pointed towards a great sloping hill, "The Capital."

"Sylph should be there," Cid muttered, concluding the sentiment.

"It won't go well," Fang shook her head, speaking loud enough to be heard, but also quiet enough to be ignored.

Biting back a smug response, Cid lead them further onwards, being greeted with a series of gasps as they had their first site of the once-Sylph. Now there were people, lots, and lots, of real people, strewn across the land. Humans, of almost every conceivable appearance, more than any of them had seen before. It wasn't even all of the Sylph: some had almost certainly gone into a more permanent death, some were probably elsewhere… Judging by how many Sylph there had been before, it was a good thing not all of them were here.

A few faces looked familiar, but with the sheer variety of people there, that wasn't surprising: not to mention, plenty probably also came from Gran Pulse. Neither Fang nor Vanille could remember any by name, then again, this was just a tiny slice of the whole Sylph swarm.

"Any of you know a wanderer?" Dajh shouted from atop Choco, shrugging when people gave him a strange look.

"Hardly specific," Bartholomew muttered back, "Can any of you remember being here before?"

"Huh?" Fang frowned

"Makes sense," he replied, "If there's more than one wanderer, maybe one of them got picked up to become a Sylph, or just is passing by."

There was still an edgy silence surrounding them.

"Anyone?" Vanille chirped hopefully, slipping her hand into Fang's.

"It's," one of the crowd began, quiet before, realizing no one else was talking, continuing, louder, "It's not really something we can talk about."

"We just want to know, we're trying to find someone." Bartholomew replied

"Bit late for that now?" the man in the crowd chuckled, almost hysterically, and yet somehow shy, "You're dead!"

"Not if we can help it," Fang muttered, eliciting a reluctant chuckle from some of the crowd.

"Hey, I know you!" a sudden shout came across the crowd. Most faces turned towards a slightly flushed, short black haired woman, "What, don't recognize me?" she bit her lip to stop a laugh as she ran closer

"Not as such," Dajh shot back

"I'm glad of that. Met you as one of the Sylph: the resistance that is."

"Glad of that," Fang rolled her eyes, "You seen anything?"

"Afraid not," the woman shook her head, "Any details would be appreciated, a 'wanderer' is hardly specific."

"She's got a point," Vanille stage-whispered, "Lotsa people here, it's a bit hard to just find one."

"I know the one I want to find," Fang whispered quietly to Vanille, being rewarded with a giggle

"Could you two please stop flirting?" Dajh shook his head slowly, "Isn't that necrophilia?"

"Don't go there," Vanille shivered, before shouting: "Anyone got an answer?"

"Just rumours," another voice, shy, joined the discussion, "Ear to the ground, hear a lot in an hour," a girl, looked like a young teenager, if even that old, peered out of the crowd, "Couple of others said, word is someone mapped out this whole place. Took `em centuries."

"How'd you know all that?" Dajh turned

"I'm no liar!" the girl didn't meet his eyes, speaking almost aggressively defensive, though still quiet

"Never said you were," Dajh raised his hands

"Bunch of people went passed awhile back," the girl eventually, timidly, responded, "sounded like they knew what they was talking about. Eavesdropped, heard `em say they'd be lost if not for the map."

"A start," Dajh muttered to himself, before speaking up again, "Do you know where we can find them?"

The girl shrank away.

"I'm-" Dajh began, stepping forwards

"Stop it," Bartholomew stuck an arm in front of Sazh's son, before walking calmly forwards himself. "Don't worry, we're just trying to find someone I hope can help. Do you mind?" his voice was surprisingly tender

"No…" the girl shook her head hurriedly

"Good," Bartholomew nodded, encouraging, "What's your name?"

"A-Adisa." The girl stuttered

"Thank you Adisa, now, where did you see those strangers?"

Adisa stumbled for a moment before tentatively pointing behind herself, through the crowd, to a small ridge beside a deep valley.

"Thank you," Bartholomew repeated, kind, before quietly asking, "Is there anything else?"

"I," Adisa murmured, "They said something about an 'imbalance', bad stuff's happening `cos of it. Didn't understand."

"Thank you," Bartholomew nodded again, smiling, before standing up and turning back to his friends.

"Daddy!" Vanille squealed, running up and almost knocking him over with a hug. Hope's father just stood there, blushing a little.

"I'm feeling a little jealous," Fang pointed out, before chuckling as Vanille quickly whirled around.

"Aww," the redhead giggled, giving the elder Gran Pulsian another, stronger embrace.

Before anything else could happen, a storm seemed to pass over the sky. Everyone looked up, surprised.

"You can get storms in death?" Fang blinked

"Normally, I doubt it," Cid spoke, "Adisa mentioned an imbalance, did she not? Evidently it has an effect," Cid paused before deciding to rush them, "Now may we please find shelter?"

Deciding there was no better alternative, they followed his advice, which in turn lead to following Fang and Vanille, the experts on the older Gran Pulsian terrain, as they made their way through the scattering ex-Sylph, to the ridge Adisa had pointed to. They quickly sprinted across the side of the valley, a hundred or so metres, before reaching a cliff side, and a cave, one hidden by bracken and ivy.

They ducked in, seeking shelter from the suddenly torrential rain, which appeared to almost come out of nowhere. The water pounded onto the dry mud, and thin grass, moistening the soil and washing an alarming amount of foliage away.

"I'm tired," Vanille yawned

"Tired?" Cid echoed, surprised

"Come to think of it, yeah," Fang nodded, blinking a couple of times. "Aren't you?"

"Not really," Dajh shook his head, rubbing his hand down Choco's neck, "Is it even meant to be possible? Dead and all."

"Feels it," Vanille stretched, yawning again.

"Go on then," Bartholomew nodded, smiling, sitting back against the wall, "We'll stay up."

"Thanks," Vanille smiled. She received a nod from most of the group in return.

The redhead curled up next to the wall, shutting her eyes. With a last look over her friends, Fang joined the younger woman, putting an arm across the redhead's shoulders as they lay together, eyes closed.


	31. The Lost

**So, um, sorry this took a while. Upon returning from holiday, random other idea for a story seized me.  
About this one though, well, review if you're enjoying! Let me know you're all still there! And hope you enjoy!**

Hope stumbled out of the closet, stretching his stiff neck. He took the rug out with him, before looking around, for the first time seeing the room in the light. Still, not much light; only the barest hints of the sun, distorted and changed to an icy blue, through the layers and layers of crystal. It was like a misty night.

Hope walked out into the main room, where the 'Sylph' still lay. It appeared longer than it was before, and the lower parts of its body were rounded into two vague bumps. It was like he was somehow changing. Into what, Hope didn't know.

The leaf that had been dislocated last night had healed a little way; there was a little swelling. Semi-unconsciously, Hope reached out to stroke the bump, withdrawing almost immediately; it felt…well, human. Sylph skin was normally smoother, silkier. This one though felt exactly like human skin.

It seemed, now that the rest of the Sylph, and the Maker, had left, this one escaped Sylph bore some irregularity. It was almost like he was becoming human. The thought filled Hope with both fear and excitement: who would he become?

"You just gonna stand there?" the Sylph opened one eye,

"I was waiting for you to wake up," Hope replied, stepping back to let the Sylph hover up.

"That was polite of you," the Sylph sounded almost mocking, "Do you have any plans for today, or are we just chipping our way out of Cocoon?"

"I wanted to look around. We don't have any food or water that's not past its sell-by date. I don't suppose you can warp back to Pulse."

"That particular ability escapes me," the Sylph conceded, waving one of its two arms uselessly through the air, "So, exploring you say?"

The Sylph darted across the room, pushing the door open.

Inexplicably tense, Hope followed it out into the barely lit streets of Cocoon. It was intriguing to watch the little creature: it exalted in the freedom it had to fly, even in the fairly sealed streets. It flew high, brushing the crystalline sky, and curled back, brushing along the crater it had left in the road the previous day.

"Where to?" He spoke breathlessly formal, tired out more by the flight than the other Sylph were. Perhaps he was losing that ability too.

"I don't know," Hope admitted, "But there's nothing else to do."

"How about a visit to below?"

"Below?"

"Yes, below. Below the main city: there's a- a…" his voice trailed off, "Forgotten," the Sylph muttered hollowly, "I've forgotten so much."

"Can you remember the way?" Hope replied eagerly

"I think so," the Sylph nodded.

The silver haired Hope struggled to see the mutating, tall Sylph as it glided through the air; it didn't fly as such, but neither did it walk. The best analogy Hope could think of was as if it was in low gravity: skimming off the dimly lit floor, bouncing and keeping in the air a little way, moving towards the centre of Eden.

Unsure of the direction, Hope tentatively followed. His step was much less graceful: more haunted, afraid. He had bad memories of that place. The streets were still dark, though not as dark as the pitch-black shades the previous night. It was relatively easy to see the abandoned buildings, and with a little effort, he could see through the refracted light to the Sylph ahead. It was a little like being underwater, at least, with the light. Almost surreal shadows and reflections, and occasional rainbow, through the crystal.

The Sylph ducked into Eden-hall, almost casually breaking down the brittle gate. A little stunned by the wanton destruction, Hope walked past, keeping a little way from the long-dead (killed by Sylph?) gate-fal'Cie. The curled metal gave off a little foggy illumination, an excess of energy, signalling for them to keep a little way away, just in case.

The winding halls the Sylph led them down were charred; Hope could just about see them in the light of neon tubes. The Sylph had kept the power on down here, why? Hope wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

A strained thud of metal echoed from further into the darkness: Hope ran a little way, to see the Sylph, panting, one arm-leaf resting against the wall. It had opened another passage.

"It's below, I remember." The Sylph offered the mild explanation, before entering the passage.

Cautious, Hope ducked into the descending tunnel, managing to see with the aid of luminescent Sanctum glyphs on the walls. They revealed the circular, spiralling downwards route, eerily symmetrical. If not for the scratches made in the wall by the Sylph, it would be hard to tell that he was moving at all: every few metres look exactly the same as the previous few, the symbol of the Sanctum being the only decoration on the bronze walls.

Eventually, they reached the end of the winding tunnel, though it was barely worth it. The room was small, two by three metres, and a few centimetre above and below the tunnel Hope had just exited. On the far wall, the shape of a fal'Cie appeared, another of the lifeless gates. Hope looked around, across grey tiled floors, barely lit by the faintly shimmering gate. Somehow, the light was distorted, a little faint in some places as it moved through the room. Hope frowned, trying to see why. When he saw the cause, he let out a sudden, quiet breath.

A woman, one arm raised, frozen, as it warded off something in front, fingers open, but palm raised. Her other hand hung behind her, palm facing the floor, fingers shaped like a claw. Her lithe body was tensed, prepared for something, while her featureless eyes were peeled, narrowed, glaring watchfully up, past the tips of her fingers on her upper hand.

She was composed entirely of crystal. Unmarked, clear, glassy crystal.

"L'Cie," the Sylph whispered, resting with one arm on the wall. With a start, Hope realized the Sylph was just over half the size he was: a lot more than the other Sylph ever were.

"L'Cie?" Hope replied after a few seconds, "You mean, she's alive?"

"In crystal, yes. That appears to be one of my traits inherited from the Sylph: I can sense it."

"How long do you think s he's been there?" Hope breathed, awed, lightly brushing his finger down her clear palm.

"Four centuries. Perhaps closer to five."

"You can tell all that?"

"I- I recognize her," the Sylph let out a rattled breath, "A Sylph or a human memory, I do not know."

"Can you help her?" Hope frowned, speaking quietly, "She might know something, a way out to Pulse maybe. I want to see Asura again, I have tog o back there."

"I don't know. Let us see if I've inherited that particular trait too." The Sylph muttered, bitterly sardonic.

He closed his eyes, reaching out with a hand, frayed edges of a leaf appearing a lot like fingers; they were thicker than the normal Sylph-leaves, there were five, and were growing, currently about the size of a finger up to the first knuckle.

Had the Sylph crystallized this woman? It seemed the only explanation, but for so long… What did they want with her?

A wave of light washed over the woman, and both she and the Sylph collapsed, the latter panting, kneeling on the ground.

A split second later, she snapped to her feet, on guard, before swaying again and collapsing. On her knees, she looked up, gaze softening, surprisingly, at the weary figure of the not-quite-Sylph, as he panted on the ground, tired.

"Hello?" Hope knelt down near her, "Who a re you?"

"Huh?" she turned, "I'm-" an expression of panic crossed her face, "I- I can't remember!" she looked around, frantic, wild, afraid.

"Rhoswen," the Sylph murmured, mostly unconscious, before blinking, confused

"Rhoswen? That- that sounds right," she struggled to her feet, "Who are _you_?"

"I'm-"

"Never mind, you're one of us if you have a Sylph. Now, if I may," she left the sentence hanging, walking across the room, to the symbol just opposite the entrance.

"I think I know who she is," Hope whispered down to the panting Sylph, "Well, vaguely."

"Who?" the Sylph looked up, "I need to know."

"I don't know the details, but she dresses up like she's from Cocoon, and that pendant is familiar, it's a logo."

"For who?" the Sylph insisted, impatient

"One of the die-hards, the patriots. From when Cocoon was destroyed, a few people tried to stay behind, super-patriots who didn't want to leave this place behind. I wish I knew why the Sylph saved her."

"And why they've taken her memory. She can't even remember her own name."

"Come to think of it, how did you remember?"

"I wish I knew. The word Rhoswen just clicked," the Sylph spoke in even tones.

Before they could ask her anything, she stepped backwards with a shout of triumph. The rusted mechanism creaked into life, barely preserved by the Sylph. The gate opened, to reveal a huge, huge, brighter chamber.

The walls and floor and ceiling could not be seen; and yet the light was clear, in circles, about half a metre wide, each of them, in a regular grid, all across the seeming miles.

In each of the circles, there was another crystal, with Cie'th milling in between.

X

Fang was the first to wake up, her arms wrapped around the younger Vanille. The woman stayed still, not wishing to wake the redhead, a problem resolved in a few seconds when Vanille whispered: "You awake?"

"No," Fang whispered back, taking care to not be heard by the chatting group a little way from them: Dajh, Cid and Bartholomew.

"Yes you are," Vanille giggled softly, "No snoring."

"You always say that," Fang muttered, "But I've never snored."

"You have!" Vanille giggled, before sobering, "You think we'll ever get back?"

"To being alive? Dunno, but I'm going to try. Never thought I'd say those words. I want to marry you Vanille, and 'to death do us part' seems a bit superfluous here."

"Not even death will part us," Vanille murmured, uncharacteristically serious

"You can say that again."

"Not even death will part us."

"Not what I meant," Fang chuckled, "I don't feel dead."

"I never thought I'd have this conversation."

"You know what I mean though? It's just too…real, I feel tired, awake, even hungry, but not much."  
"It's like being asleep," the redhead noted

"Exactly!" Fang nodded, "And I'm dreaming of you."

Vanille reached up and sharply pinched Fang's forearm.

"Ow!" Fang suddenly yelped, caught off-guard by the impishly grinning redhead

"Not sleeping any more!" Vanille sang, sitting smartly up. The rest of the group looked over at the duo, bemused.

Still lying down, flat, Fang reached up with one arm and pulled a giggling Vanille down by her top, taking her in a passionate kiss.

"I doubt they were _sleeping _in the first place," Dajh rolled his eyes. The two Gran Pulsians were too absorbed in each other to respond. There was nothing purely sexual with what they were doing, it was more a need for the other, to be close, to be almost one with the other. As the moments ticked by, they simply embraced, arms tightly wound.

"I love you," Vanille whispered, needing to say the words.

"Thanks," Fang grinned

"_Fang_," Vanille groaned

"Alright, alright," the elder woman ran a hand through the other's red hair, "I love you too Vanille, you know that."

The redhead giggled, snuggling closer.

Several minutes passed, the couple breathing in the other, holding close, as if they were just one body. It was all they could do, to be close.

The calm touch was interrupted by a sudden shout. The Gran Pulsians rolled reluctantly apart, turning over to see the occupants of the cave, Dajh, Bartholomew and Cid, up in arms.

A creature had entered the cave: tall, thin, metallic, red. It stepped forward, waving about a dozen arms, with almost mechanical looking legs bringing it forwards.

"What the hell?" Dajh exclaimed, patting himself down for any weapon. He had none. "Don't recall seeing anything like this."

"An ancestor," Cid spoke calmly, one arm raised in a defensive posture-he too was unarmed-"You should study Pulse history-"

"Gran Pulse!" Fang interjected turning to help Vanille stand up.

"-In any case," Cid continued, "They occupied the world with the early Pulse, Gran Pulse, peoples. They exist no longer."

The being took a step closer. The Gran Pulsians, for the first time, saw the creature clearly. Now the daylight shone brightly onto the creature's metallic frame. Fang faltered. Vanille's eyes widened.

It took another step forward.

Cid made an aggressive step forward, as if the 'ancestor' was some kind of insect to be scared away. Needless to say, it failed. But before eh could to anything else, Vanille ran straight past him, sticking out an arm to block any more of his movements.

"No!" she cried, lowering her arm and running further forwards. She stopped just in front of the creature.

The redhead gently lifted a fragile arm, touching its face. The being responded, all of its wheel of arms, set firmly on its back, darted down through the air. They slowed, and stopped, as it protectively embraced the redhead.

Fang coughed, irritated.

The creature slowly peered up, totem-like red face surveying them. Upon glancing Fang, it softened, grip loosening, and it stepped back.

"Thanks, Hecaton," Vanille giggled, stepping forwards.

"Do you mind telling me, what was that?" Bartholomew eventually asked

"Hecatoncheir," Fang replied instead, looking in amazement at the unexpected arrival, "He was Vanille's Eidolon, back when we were l'Cie."

"How'd you get here Hecta?" Vanille murmured, delicately touching the Eidolon's silent form.

"I would have thought you of all would realize," Cid joined the conversation instead, "It is your mythology, is it not? The Eidolon's are Etro's messengers, she sends them to l'Cie. Be it a ghost of an ancestor or otherwise, they come from the realm of the dead: where we now reside."

"So, you live here?" Vanille tilted her head, peering up at Hecatoncheir. The Eidolon slowly nodded.

Seized by some urge, Fang sprinted past, ignoring the redhead's Eidolon. Outside the cave, in a now-dry environment-the rain hadn't lasted longer than a second from the moment it touched ground-she looked up at the sky. "Bahamut!" she shouted, "Ready when you are!"

The air was momentarily still.

A black-and-purple beast descended from a cloudless sky, appearing in a flash. The machine-looking creature slowed, and stood up the right way, hovering in the air just in front of Fang. It lifted orange talons, like hands, moving them up, and back, in an action seemingly to part the air. Bahamut lowered further, touching the ground, staying upright with a graceful balancing movement from those claws.

For their part, Dajh, Bartholomew and Cid were taken back, though Cid was the first to recover. He said nothing though, instead drinking in the sight of the two fearsome Eidolons standing still, watchful.

"That's cool!" Dajh was the next to speak, "Wish I'd been a l'Cie long enough to get one of them."

"No you don't," Fang replied, not facing Dajh, instead watching with interest her Eidolon, a strong, yet eerily small, hand resting on its claw. "It's not fun picking one up."

"Guess so, that's what they say," Dajh shrugged, "Wonder if I'll meet mine here."

"I highly doubt it," Cid coolly interrupted, "The Sanctum takes great interest in these affairs. L'Cie are not made with an Eidolon, one is assigned upon the need, so the legends say."

"You know a lot about us," Vanille skipped back, followed by a cautious Hecatoncheir.

"I said," Cid responded, inhaling before continuing, "The Sanctum was interested in their mortal foes. They learned what they could: and I was once of the Sanctum. I learned much."

Cid's mildly unsettling words marked the end of that exchange. No one was quite sure how to reply, so instead, the Eidolons moved. Bahamut took a powerful step forward, giving both the impression of strength, and the feeling of being unused to walking. Hecatoncheir merely gave a slight hop, moving next to the dragon-Eidolon. They moved a little apart from each other, standing to their full height and as good as dwarfing the people surrounding them.

Bahamut knelt on one knee, and followed by leaning further forward, until he was almost horizontal on the ground. Hecatoncheir nodded, and made a similar movement, but as he lowered, he extended the many limb-like appendages, in the wheel over his back.

"You…want to take us somewhere?" Vanille tilted her head.

Bahamut lifted his neck a little way, only to nod, before descending again.

"One thing I do know," Bartholomew spoke, a question in his voice, "Eidolons are supposed to become vehicles, aren't they?"

"In the real world," Fang shrugged, "Who knows? Maybe the rules are different here. If they do actually live here, maybe they can't, does look a bit unnatural when they transform."

"A power bestowed only in life?" Raines murmured to himself, not really speaking to anyone in particular, "Interesting."

"Yeah, yeah," Vanille sang, running around to push Cid forward, "Stop talking and get on."

A few minutes later, and all of them were on an Eidolon. Vanille and Dajh were sitting on one of Hecatoncheir's many limbs, strapped in by other arms, while Fang, Cid and Bartholomew all rested on Bahamut's back.

"Go!" Fang shouted, punching her fist through the air. Needing no further incentive, Bahamut took off. The people on it tightly gripped its metallic skin as it rocketed forwards.

"Come on, Hecaton!" Vanille giggled, finishing with a "Whoa," as the eidolon leapt, bouncing across the landscape. It seemed to take extra care to keep them still, balanced, even so, Dajh and Vanille gripped the limbs tightly, afraid they'd fall off the wild ride.

It was quite some time until they halted, and when they had, it took longer for them to descend from the Eidolons. They'd arrived at a large, featureless area, much like the rest of Gran Pulse in the realm of death. The grass seemed a little greener, the mud a little messier, but that was really all.

"Wish you guys could speak," Fang mumbled, pacing forwards, "Be a lot easier to figure out where we are."

A few steps away, the raven haired Gran Pulsian vanished into thin air.

Everyone darted forwards, none quicker than Vanille, who ran right into the spot of air that's claimed Fang.

As the redhead did, she trembled, throwing her arms around the now visible Fang. It was like they were in a bubble: sound was muffled, and evens so, there wasn't much to listen to. A few whispered words, as if they were on sacred ground. From their vantage point in the air, several buildings were visible: most were very modern ones, like the one in which they'd temporarily lived. However, a waist-high barrier was near them; and beyond that, crumbling, golden/bronze buildings stood, all very tumbled, broken, but still recognizable.

The Gran Pulsians stumbled out of the little spot, re-entering the plainer landscape of death.

"One of the bits closer to life," Fang shook her head, "Never going to get used to them."

"What'd you see?" Dajh eagerly asked, "Where are we?"

Fang locked eyes with him before she responded: "Oerba."


	32. Contact

**Another character introduced here. Hope you enjoy, despite the delay!  
Please review if you like it! I'll try to reply to all non-anons. **

She made her way through the crowd, long brown cloak pulled up, concealing all her features. Hazel hair, arguably longer than the cloak, was tied in a sheet down the back of her hidden body, looped around a brown wing, one similar to that of an eagle, pressed tightly, mostly hidden, against her back.

No, she wasn't human. With a little effort though, she could pass herself off as one, so long as no one peered too far beneath her hood and perceived the helmet-like face that resided beneath. So long as no one grabbed her hand, to feel the glove, stuffed with stone and grass, hiding her pointed, flat, featureless 'hands'. And so long as no one looked too closely at her feet, just visible beneath her robe. They were hooves; a thin layer of leaves was coated beneath it, to muffle the noise of the clip-clopping, but no actual shoes: no such clothing was available in the areas where she dwelt. They didn't need it: it was hard enough getting the jacket. She'd had to spend days, running at her full speed (_very _fast) through a maze of abandoned alleys and junkyards, to find any clothes shops, and take another few days to sneak in and steal the cloak. Not to worry; she paid though, as best she could. She understood morality, and had left behind a small, carved centaur, and a ruby she'd unearthed. She wasn't sure how much the cloak was worth, but she hoped that'd be enough.

As expected, Lightning was just through the crowd, batting aside all comments and commentaries to make her way through. Today, she wasn't wearing her hooded garment; just as well really, it'd be hard enough to spot Lightning as it was, with so much of the cloaked woman's face covered with her cloak as it was.

"Lightning!" the woman called out. Her natural tones were little more than loud whispers, though with practise she mingled that voice with a general cry, creating a passable imitation of a human's voice. She stopped just in front of the pink haired soldier.

"Get out the way," Lightning looked up

"Not until you listen," the cloaked newcomer whispered, relieved at being able to use her normal tones again. Lightning frowned a little add the odd accent. The woman opposite acted as if she was locking eyes, though her face wasn't visible, save for a shadow of her chin.

Lightning was about to speak again, when she caught sight of something beneath the woman's hood. Surreptitiously, she bent her knees, under the pretence of fastening her weapon to the holster, while she peered upwards with her eyes. What she saw beneath the hood almost made her recoil, despite her training.

It wasn't horrific as such, just, well, unexpected. There were next to no features on the face; it was a dull silver, eyes little more than hexagonal indentations, barely noticeable. the rest of the face was just a metal mask, it seemed, a sheet of carved metal, with tiny spiky ears just visible either side.

"You're not human," the soldier stated coldly.

"No," the woman replied, shaking her head, "But that does not mean I do not care. The Chosen saved many fal'Cie also, and we have longer memories than you. It is about time we repaid our debt, and if the others will not help, I shall."

"Like I believe that," Lightning rolled her eyes; a little taken aback by the casual admission that the woman was fal'Cie

"Believe it. I bear you no ill will for the loss of our Maker, and neither do many others. We have long since moved on, and with her recent attempt at arrival, it is not surprising. Humans were not the only harmed."

"And you are?" Lightning tried to get some scrap of information about this fal'Cie.

"I am Shemhazai, and I am here to help."

"Really? How?" Lightning's words were curious, but her tone was flat

"I assumed you would know. The hand of a fal'Cie is often appreciated. If you have any ideas I am more than happy to aid you."

"So what you're saying," Lightning muttered to herself, "Is that you haven't got the slightest idea what to do, and you're happy to do it."

"That is," Shemhazai paused for a moment, finding the words, "Quite correct."

"If I refuse?"

"Then I shall work alone, I simply believe together we have a better chance at repaying our great debt to the Chosen."

"You do realize they died?"

"I have seen their ghosts. It is obvious they have passed beyond."

"You what?" Lightning quickly took a step closer to the fal'Cie, "You saw them? Where?" she muttered urgently

"The skies above. They flew here."

"They flew?"

"I saw Fang atop a dragon of some sort, it-"

"Bahamut?" Lightning frowned, thinking, "It sounds right. And they were coming here?"

"Yes."

Lightning paused for a moment, before suddenly exclaiming, "Oerba!"

It made sense: the pink haired soldier's thoughts whirled. From all the crossovers they'd been experiencing, all the 'ghosts', people long thought to be dead, it felt like death was some parallel world. And if it was, it made sense that the Gran Pulsians would go to their home. That is, if it looked anything like Pulse: which it logically had to. Of course they were going to Oerba! Why hadn't she thought of it earlier?

Was it any good to know that though? Ok, she knew where Fang was, roughly. Still, lots of ground to cover, if there were even any areas where the dead would appear.

"I shall meet you there," Shemhazai soon spoke again, "It is most uncomfortable to hold this disguise."

Lightning nodded, only half listening. She didn't focus on anything much as Shemhazai walked slowly away, trying to figure out what to do in Oerba. If she could get there…what?

Cie'th Stones? The one in Vallis Media showed her Fang before, maybe the same again? What Cie'th Stones were in Oerba? In the main village, there was one, and another across the bridge. They wouldn't be going there, though, why should they? Their houses though, all the buildings in the village. There, maybe?

Suddenly, a series of gasps passed through the crowd. Lightning blinked, looking to the source of the shock. A brownish blur, outlined by some kind of magical energy, was shooting through the air, like a firework. Two huge wings, both the colour of teak, were extended either sided of the creature. Shemhazai.

That was one way to leave.

Trying again to change her thoughts to ones of Oerba, Lightning turned around, pacing quickly towards the ancient village.

X

"Nice to see you again," Vanille sat on the tip of a jutting-upwards rock, swinging her feet easily while she kept her head level with Hecatoncheir's, atop the stone.

The Eidolon nodded slowly, metallic face forming a slight smile.

"So, Whatcha been doing these last few years?" Vanille tilted her head, still grinning.

The group had decided to take a break; the Eidolons had obviously taken them here for a reason, and even if the wanderer wasn't anywhere near, they really needed to stop and think. Oerba was just a brilliant place for all of that, even if currently it was just familiar contours and hills over the ground.

Hecatoncheir rippled his arms in a kind-of response.

"Why am I asking you questions if you can't speak?" Vanille murmured to herself.

The Eidolon shrugged. She giggled.

"Oh, I'm doing it again? No! Don't answer," she sighed. "What's," she paused, before shaking a little bizarrely all over, in a crude impersonation of Hecatoncheir, "meant to mean?"

Silently as always impassive, he lifted a tapered hand and pointed it across the landscape. He rotated in a full circle, pointing at everything, though jabbing a little further forwards at certain landmarks.

"What?" Vanille frowned, "Dancing?"

Hecatoncheir shook his head.

"Charades?"

Again, the Eidolon signalled a 'no'.

"Exploring?"

Hecatoncheir nodded.

"So…you're our guide huh?" Vanille slid forwards off the rock, giggling, slipping and landing in the Eidolon's guarding hold. Hecatoncheir slowly put her down, upright.

"Thanks!" the redhead sang.

She skipped forwards a little way before pausing, frowning, tilting her head, and turning back to her Eidolon.

"Say, why'd you bring us here?"

Hecatoncheir made a move as if inhaling, before crouching, putting his head even with Vanille's on height, and giving her a look as sarcastic as the metal body would allow.

"Right," the redhead giggled, "Can't answer that one without talking," she sighed. "Have you been with Bahamut all this time?"

Hecatoncheir shook his head slowly.

"You haven't?"

He shook his head again, and lifted one hand, pinching two fingers close together in the universal symbol for 'small'.

"You haven't been around each other long?" Vanille queried. "Where've you been?" she murmured after receiving a nod.

The Eidolon paused, unsure of how to answer. After a few minute' deliberation, he pointed gently at Vanille's thigh.

"Huh?" The redhead blinked, stumbling despite the fact she was standing still.

The Eidolon repeated the movement, waving its tapered, metallic hand softly through the air, an almost imperceptible sway. As he did, a tiny ball of light appeared, an orange heart. After a few seconds, it broke and fell, fading away.

"My crystal?" Vanille frowned, somewhat relieved.

Hecatoncheir, again, nodded.

"When'd you get out?"

Hecatoncheir shot her another sarcastic look.

"Ok, I'll guess," she paused, "When we got taken out of crystal?"

The Eidolon shook his head

"Oh… when we died?"

Shake again

"Um…when the Sylph un-branded us?" Vanille frowned, casting her mind back.

This time, the Eidolon hesitantly nodded.

The redhead was about to speak again, when she caught sight of something beside the rock she'd recently sat on. She turned, trying to catch a decent glimpse of it, failing as it darted away. Vanille ran up to the place where it had been, only to find empty land.

She didn't know what to make of it. The creature was…wasn't human. She couldn't tell. It had been small, barely higher than her knee: but her glimpse had been blurred, vague, and it could easily have been crouching. She knew close to nothing, save for one thing that stayed in her mind; it's lips. The faint glance of its face she'd had revealed deathly pale skin. Deathly was an ideal word come to think of it; it just looked that way, just lifeless.

The colour spread on the lips though, that was anything but lifeless. Blue; an unnatural colour, definitely, blue, but a vivid shade. Like how a child would draw the night sky, a dark, velvety, azure. Like the paint they could easily have been made from, the image of the lips were splashed across Vanille's mind. Just the thought made her shiver; not in fear, not quite in fear.

She could kind of picture that being: though the only feature she clearly remembered was the two lips, an assortment of images were assaulting her mind. The tiny creature, almost insubstantial, gliding across the land. A half-playful, half-macabre smile adorned the haunting lips. She saw the creature surrounded by some blinding light, one that reminded her of the Maker when She was trying to re-enter life. The creature's face had been twisted into a scowl, eyes narrowed, eyes of no noticed colour, with those striking lips parted slightly in a downwards curve. The last image that stayed with her was the same being in the storm which had roared over the death-Pulse earlier, silhouetted by lightning, and yet those two lips were visible in the blur, an angry, yet somehow justified, cry.

Vanille released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, falling to the ground, prevented from falling flat on her face with one arm stuck up, grabbing hold of the rock. She was about to sit up, until she saw the ground. A tiny leaf was visible. The leaf, apart from being of no recognizable growth, was the same vivid colour as the stranger's lips. Writing was visible on it.

_Your house, dear one._

Vanille let her fingers trace over the somehow reassuring, maternal script. Her house? They didn't have their own houses in Oerba, they shared. Unless they meat something else; the one she was born in? Her favourite place to live?

None of it felt right. Confused, she lifted the leaf, showing it to the ever-silent Hecatoncheir, who now stood, after some unseen, silent movement, just above her. The Eidolon paused, before again pointing to her thigh, where her brand had once been situated.

"Where I was branded?" Vanille frowned, "That's not my house."

A shake of a metallic head replied.

"No? Oh…um, something to do with Anima?" Vanille tilted her head.

Shake. The Eidolon elaborated by again making a semblance of Vanille's crystal.

"Crystal?" the redhead murmured, "Oh!" she nodded eagerly, "When I came out of crystal? The house I around here?"

Nod.

"How'd you know?" Vanille leered, grinning.

The Eidolon just pointed to the crystal.

"Where is it then?"

Hecatoncheir pointed to another location, a vague gesture. Vanille sighed, unable to figure out exactly where it meant.

"I know!" she sang, "I'll go get Fang, you lead us there!"

Nod.

The redhead eagerly skipped across the grass, shooting one last look at the tall, waiting Eidolon. Grinning, she bounded up to where Fang sat, just beside Bahamut.

"Fang!" she grinned

"V-" the raven haired woman began to reply, before her eyes widened, "What happened to you?" she murmured after a moment, appalled

"Huh?" Vanille frowned

"Your skin," Fang muttered, lifting one of Vanille's hands tenderly. She clasped the delicate limb between her two palms, gently lifting it and showing it to the redhead.

Too surprised to even gasp, Vanille just stared. It had somehow become pale; terrifyingly so. Like snow, as white, but not as clean. As she watched, her normal skin tones returned, quicker in the places under Fang's hands.

"I…" Vanille murmured, before shaking her head, clearing it of distractions, "Never mind, Hecaton wants to show us something. Here!" she lifted the blue leaf, showing the writing.

"Our house?" Fang frowned

"The one Lightning gave us! Hecaton said so. Come on!"

"Ok," Fang shrugged, taking the leaf with two fingers.

As they walked, Vanille glimpsed an abnormally pale Fang out of the corner of her eye. She span around quickly, to see the elder Gran Pulsian look the same as before.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Fang chuckled, only half-sarcastic. This was death after all.

"No," Vanille squeaked, shaking her head as she skipped towards the rest of the group.

Fang's words had shaken her though: in some ways, the glimpse was like a ghost. Fang had appeared to be dead, pale, lifeless; the same way her own hands had looked earlier. Vanille frowned; was it something to do with the leaf? It was odd to see anything natural that shade of blue, and coupled with its appearance in death… It was enough to raise suspicions at the very least.

"Hey, you two!" Dajh waved as the Gran Pulsians approached.

"We have to go somewhere, apparently," Fang shrugged, twirling the leaf between her fingers, before throwing it the few centimetres to Dajh. It drifted through the air surprisingly well.

"Your house?" Dajh paused.

"That's what they said," Vanille shrugged

"Who?" Cid stepped forward, urgent, "Did you find the wanderer?"

"I-" Vanille paused, "I don't know."

"You'd know," Bartholomew muttered, "She's unmistakable. Tiny, but you can never forget her lips."  
Fang shot him a surprised look.

"That's her!" Vanille nodded eagerly

"_Lips_?" Fang enunciated carefully

"Yep," Vanille giggled, scaring herself as she unconsciously shook at the memory, "Blue. Very blue."

"That's her," Bartholomew nodded, "I couldn't remember anything about her until I saw that leaf; then it came back. The blue lips. Everything."

"Who is she?" Vanille murmured

"I wish I knew. Someone who's been here a long time, they knew so much."

"Including where our house is," Fang muttered, "That shouldn't be possible."

"Didn't think of that," this time, Dajh spoke, "Maybe this wanderer was a Sylph?"

"No," Bartholomew shook his head, "I spoke to her when the Sylph were in life. We can ask how should we catch up to her."

"In the mean time, may I suggest we go to this apparent rendezvous at Vanille's house," Cid said, obviously impatient, "I assume one of you knows the way."

"Hecatoncheir's gonna show us!" Vanille squealed.

"Indeed," Cid murmured, "I would gladly walk."

The redhead pouted at the man's dry remark. Biting his lip, Dajh looked away; he'd ridden the Eidolon earlier, and it was true. The journey was kind of uncomfortable, leaping around everywhere.

"Hecatoncheir!" Vanille called.

The area around them had grown slightly misty; like a few wisps of cloud had descended. Wasn't enough to impair sight significantly, but it did hide the nimble Hecatoncheir for a moment more, until he landed just in front of Vanille.

With one pointed arm, he pointed across the mildly misty landscape. Vanille nodded, though Fang was the first to begin walking that way. They walked through the damp air, easily able to see the Eidolon as it lead them ahead. The mist seemed to be repelled as they walked through it; it seemed Cid was the only one the mist stayed near.

After a few minutes, Bahamut descended, blowing most of the clouds away as he silently took the lead. The dragon-Eidolon flew for a few hundred metres more, forcing its followers to run to catch up. Eventually it landed. Fang spotted it through the mist, gesturing and calling Dajh, Bartholomew, Vanille and Cid to it.

"Okay, we're here," the raven haired Gran Pulsian announced, walking straight up to the Eidolon. As she did, she appeared to vanish.

"Again?" Vanille sighed, hopping over and vanishing alongside Fang.

Sharing looks, the rest of the group followed suite.

It was one of the bubbles closer to life. That much was obvious, even before they went near it. It was easy to recognize the phenomenon; they'd encountered a worrying amount of them.

From within the area however, it was even easier to tell. Cocoon hung in the sky, somewhere between menacing and watchful. In front of them, Fang and Vanille's pale house stood proudly just before them, and several other structures, some natural, some unnatural, dotted the landscape, a stark contrast to the barren, beautiful world in death.

The thing that really gave the game away though, was the pink haired woman just in front of them. Lightning.


	33. Knowledge

**Hello! Hope you enjoy the next chapter! **

**Review if you're enjoying please, it looks like I've left everyone behind...**

"Lightning!" Vanille grinned.

The redhead was pressed close to Fang, with the raven haired woman's arm draped around her shoulders. Bartholomew, Dajh and Cid were also relatively close together, to the couple, all trying to keep in the bubble.

Lightning blinked a couple of times upon seeing them.

"You look…real," the soldier said eventually.

"I'd hope so!" Vanille pouted

"I don't mean that," Lightning shook her head, "But none of the dead looked as substantial as you do now. Something's changing," she spoke as if she was thinking aloud.

"Doesn't matter," Fang shook her head, "We can't do anything about it, can we?"

"Not like you to give up," Lightning seemed amused.

"This is death. I don't really care for it."

"We should do," Dajh mumbled, "The storm earlier. That shouldn't happen."

"You're familiar with death?" Fang chuckled sardonically, "What were you saying, Light?"

"I was saying," the pink haired soldier paused, half-expecting interruption, "that it's odd seeing you like this. There have been people closer to life before too, they sank into the ground."

"Kinda scary," Vanille murmured, almost comically looking down at her feet

"You don't have to worry," Lightning shook her head, "I can speak to you. No one's been that tangible."

"So you said," Cid muttered, "Look, do you have any ideas of what to do?"

"To get you out?" the pink haired soldier frowned

"If you can do that, great," Fang shrugged

"We've got theories," Lightning confessed after a moments pause, "Nothing concrete, that's why I came to talk to you."

"What can we do?" Vanille squeaked, "All we've got is a couple of Eidolons."

"Eidolons?"

"Yep," Fang muttered, "Turns out Bahamut and Hecatoncheir live here."

"They do?" Lightning seemed surprised

"It's what the legends said," Vanille interjected, "Etro's messengers, and she is the Goddess of Death,"

"Fine," Lightning paused a moment, taking it in, "That was kind of why I wanted to talk; you know the myths."

Lightning reflected for a moment on just how true those words were: on Cocoon, all they'd been fed was notoriously unreliable. Sanctum propaganda, and vague, forgotten myths, like those of l'Cie.

It'd given rise to a new term, actually, in the post-fall years. As the patriotism for Cocoon had gradually fallen away, the illusions replaced by stark reality, people had been less kind with their remarks on the old government. 'Trust `em like you'd trust the Sanctum', a common term among the police force, and others who had to deal with vagrants and criminals.

Anything they'd been taught about Gran Pulse had been fraudulent, at least in the days where Sanctum still held sway. Unfortunately, after that, during the reign of Governor Bartholomew Estheim to begin with, much of the old civilization had been erased by monsters and war. They knew next to nothing about Gran Pulsian civilization, save for the little the Analects told them, and only a few more than the ones Lightning and co had recovered, had been found. Not much at all.

"Myths to do with death, huh?" Fang paused in thought for a moment.

"Orfeo and Euphemia?" Vanille squealed, "I like that story!"

"Don't think so," Fang chuckled, "Not that much of a helpful one."

"She almost came back to life!"

"Nah, the myth said no one was allowed to get resurrected, Etro knew he'd fail, something like that. I'm no historian."

"The best we have," Lightning murmured, eliciting a small smile from Fang.

"That's not a good sign," Vanille squeaked, giving Fang a quick peck on the cheek.

"Oy," Fang chuckled, before thinking again. "Can't think of too many stories that are useful."

"Balduin!" Vanille suddenly squeaked

"Balduin?" Lightning interrupted

"Yeah," Fang nodded slowly, "I suppose that's relevant."  
"What is it?" Lightning impatiently asked again

"Ah," Fang pursed her lips, "No idea. It's one of the things you get taught as a kid, and forget them in a few weeks. As much as I can remember, Balduin was a l'Cie-"

"Or priest, or warrior, or scholar." Vanille interjected

"Yeah," Fang nodded, "Depending on whatever myth you hear. He went and got himself killed by a monster, or an assassin, or an illness, and everyone in the world was upset,"

"He was kinda popular," Vanille giggled

"Yeah," Fang shrugged, "They wanted him to come back to life, and that's all I remember."  
"Mm," Vanille nodded slowly, "But that was against the rules. Not sure how it ends."

"Hopefully happily," Dajh tried to inject some humour into the situation

"No," Fang shook her heads lowly, serious, "No, I don't think it did."

A solemn few seconds past, though whether it was because the weight of Lightning's task had descended on her, or out of the memory of the unknown Balduin, it was hard to tell.

"Try and find others," Bartholomew eventually broke the silence, "Older Gran Pulsian ghosts. If we see any historians, we'll send them here. Will that work?"

"Let's hope so," Lightning pursed her lips grimly.

Dajh stumbled out of the bubble closer to life, dragged out by Choco running around, affected surprisingly much by the unnatural air. It might just be because it was an animal, but it felt odd to be in a place where death and life were so interchangeable, one step could almost move you over.

"Say, Light," Vanille squeaked up, giving life back to the conversation

"Huh?" the pink haired soldier turned around, from when she was almost about to leave.

"Is…Hope okay?" the redhead curled up into Fang, shy

"I don't know,"

"What?"

"I don't know, "Lightning seemed annoyed by her failing, "He ran away back in the Cradle. Never made it to Pulse."  
"Gran Pulse," Fang corrected automatically

"_Right_," Lightning responded with heavy sarcasm, "That's the most important thing," the soldier looked back to Vanille, "We think he's on Cocoon, Asura's working on helping."

"Do you know anything?" Bartholomew stepped forwards, almost leaving the bubble in his haste to get to Lightning, "Tell me you know _something_!"

"I wish I did," she looked down

"Damn it!" a burst of anger came from Hope's father, and he stomped out of the bubble.

Cid, Fang and Vanille stood facing Lightning, feel out of touch. It was always unnerving to fell you were somewhere different to what your normal senses told you: they saw fang and Vanille's house, and Lightning. Instinctively, they thought they were alive, when their minds told them differently.

"Nice to see you again," Fang commented, giving an easy smile.

"Likewise," the pink haired Farron nodded.

"Aw, c'mon!" Vanille pouted, "Say it properly!"

"Really?" Lightning raised her eyebrows, amused, "Why not? It was nice to see you too."

"She's being nice," Vanille stage-whispered to Fang, "It's not really Light!"

"Oh, that's nice," Lightning crossed her arms, still standing on the exact same spot

"She's got a point," Fang muttered, before remembering something else she wanted to say, "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Since we got here-"

"Since we died," Vanille chimed in, giggling despite the seriousness of her words, "Sorry, but you don't often get the chance to say that!"

"Yeah," Fang nodded slowly, continuing eventually, "Well, we remembered."

"Remembered?" Lightning rubbed her eyes, taking a moment to realize what the Gran Pulsians were saying

"Remembered," Fang repeated, "Memories were in death, or whatever babble the Sylph spouted. We know who you are now."  
"We can remember last time," Vanille elaborated, "Eden, Bresha…"

"O-of course," Lightning blinked a couple of times as she replied, "You mentioned your Eidolons, of course you could."

The pink haired soldier stopped for a moment, thinking. Guardian Corps trained, that was supposed to be helpful, and she'd done nothing if not exercise those skills in her past long, long life.

Long life. She shuddered. It wasn't that she cared what people thought of her, but the grey streaks in her hair had grown more and more pronounced over the years spent overseeing the project to free Fang and Vanille. Dye kept the worst of it hidden from her sister. Pity she didn't want.

How much had age really affected her? It was hard to answer, effects were very gradual, but if she couldn't even notice a huge event in the conversation… Bahamut and Hecatoncheir, they didn't exist until the journey last time. Why didn't she make the connection?

"Light," Cid interjected

"Lightning to you," the pink haired soldier locked her steely gaze on the ex-Sanctum officer. Her remembrances had stirred a momentary old, flaring dislike.

"Lightning," he repeated, "Get some sleep."

"Huh?"

"You're tired, it's obvious. Dark circles around your eyes, and you stutter. You never stutter unless you have to think about something, and you would not need to think about that."

"Listen Raines," Lightning began, "You don't know me-"

"I do know you. Five hundred years, I'm still that Sylph even if I don't look it. It's your problem Lightning, you want things to stay the same. When they don't you don't even sleep. You did it before-"

"How could you know that?" Lightning blinked despite her best efforts to appear neutral

"You fought me in the Ark. Knowing you, I should not have disarmed you had you been awake. When was the last time you slept?" Cid transitioned smoothly between topics.

Lightning blinked, now consciously realizing the minor struggle to reopen her eyes.

"Get some rest," Vanille chirped, "Have you slept at all since this thing began?"

Lightning made a motion to protest, but decided against it, partly from weariness, and partly from seeing the resolve in Fang's eyes.

"I was trying to help," Lightning spoke to herself.

"You're not doing anyone any good like this," Fang's voice took on a more tender tone, "If Vanille was somewhere, I'd still try and be the best I could before I helped."

"Liar," Lightning smiled weakly

"Yeah, alright," Fang shrugged, "I'd go after her if I had one leg and no eyes. But you're not me."  
"Glad of that," Lightning chuckled, slowly walking away, "Bye then," she sounded almost reluctant.

"Bye," Cid spoke curtly

"Bye!" Vanille waved cutely

"Yeah, bye," Fang lifted a still hand.

As the trio stepped out of the bubble, and caught sight of the real death, it took them a moment to catch their bearings. The once-thin mist from earlier had thickened, to almost the feel of ice. Choco was the easiest other to see; bright yellow and chirping. They made their way towards him, ready to find the blue-lipped wanderer now.

X

A slow rumble came out of Hope's stomach. He looked down at it, then up, abashed. It lessened the mood worryingly well from the essentially-army of crystal people, Cocoon die-hard patriots at a guess, in the other room.

"Hungry?" the once-crystal woman, identified by the changing Sylph as Rhoswen, spoke a little too quickly, "We got given supplies by our masters."

"Masters?" Hope frowned, following Rhoswen, albeit a little tentatively, as she entered the room which stored so many crystals.

"You must know? You have a Sylph. Them. They gave us this immortality until we were ready."

"We've been out of contact for a while," Hope gave the excuse he'd heard in too many TV shows

"Can't have been that long," Rhoswen frowned, continuing down the side of the chamber, "The Pulsians took our memories, the Sylph saved us. They want us to help the eradication of the people below."  
The matter-of-fact tones with which the latest, evidently false, pronouncement was declared, made Hope stumble as he continued moving.

"How long have you been here?" Hope frowned, lifting up their almost-Sylph follower as he drooped to the ground, too weary to fly.

"Don't know. Crystal, right?" Rhoswen stopped by a rusted door. "Odd."

She clicked the door open. Instantly the smell of rotting fruit and meat came out. She sealed it again quickly.

"_Quite_ a while," Hope breathed, a little disgusted by the sight of putrid, decayed foodstuffs in there. "That's a pain, we really need food."

"The Sylph would think of that," the two-armed possible-Sylph spoke, still tired from freeing Rhoswen, laying in Hope's arms. "If you have been here for a length of time sufficient for food to be ruined so, then the Sylph would find another source."  
"Like?" Rhoswen muttered, quick, impatient, "I'm kinda hungry too."

"I'll think," the Sylph pulled itself out of Hope's grip, hovering a little, before landing, resting, and looking around at a small distance away.

"So," Hope attempted to strike up a conversation with Rhoswen, "You worked with the Sylph?"

"It's all I can remember," her voice slowed to the pace a person would normally talk at, and something melancholy spread through her tone. "I couldn't even think of my own name, all I know is life just before I was crystallized. All of us," she paused for a split second, looking over at the lines of crystal figures, "And the Sylph. They explained it all. The Pulsians took our memories, and the Sylph only just saved us. We must right that wrong."

Hope was silent for a few seconds, not sure how to reply.

"So," he said eventually, "You're their army?"

"Best way of putting it," Rhoswen spoke very quickly again.

Silence. The lack of sound wasn't so much oppressive, as plain. The rows of crystal people, each frozen in bizarre, sudden shapes, formed an eerie backdrop, each casting distorted shadows as the somehow still-running light was cast through them. It looked as if the disciplined grid of people had been turned into some kind of snapshot, each in the same, random place. Who knew what Rhoswen was doing outside; guarding perhaps, or fleeing. No way to tell, with her Sylph-edited memories.

The occasional Cie'th wandered through the tableau, few coming near enough to even pay attention to Hope, Rhoswen and the Sylph. Briefly curious, Hope wondered how they ended up there. So many possibilities. Were they being punished by the Sylph? Some sort of training for the now-lost reawakening of the army?

There was another alternative: mistakes. The l'Cie would turn to crystal upon fulfilling a Focus, and there was no reason to think Foci had to be hard. It looked as if they were fulfilled, for most of the army, by simple actions: live a second more, breath in etc. With the number of people though, and the disordered, chaotic nature of the Sylph, it was likely some people were simply forgotten. Given unattainable Foci, or none at all.

It was chilling: so many lives cancelled out on a split-second whim of the Sylph.

A brief, twinkling light shone a few metres away. Rhoswen and Hope looked sideways, to see the Sylph releasing a small, catlike creature from crystal.

"Why was that preserved?" Hope wondered aloud.

"Why'd you think?" the Sylph snapped, momentarily sneering. "Rhoswen, fire."

A flash came from Rhoswen's shoulder, followed by an inferno whirled through the air, spiralling around the animal.

"Cheqas," the Sylph gasped, again drained from the effort of releasing the animal from crystal, "Food source on Cocoon. Hardly luxury…best there is."

Rhoswen nodded scrabbling along the floor to pull the charred creature closer. Using effortless l'Cie magic, indicating a fair bit of (Sylph trained?) practise, she cut and prepared the creature. Hope looked away, a little nauseous.

"We'd better find a way out of here," Hope muttered, "Don't think I can cope on this stuff for too long," he nibbled tenderly at his share of the Cheqa

"Same," Rhoswen nodded quickly.

"Don't look at me," the Sylph panted, "Please. It's enough of a struggle to utilize fal'Cie gifts. Teleportation, especially as far as Pulse, is not something to do halfway."

"What's wrong with your friend?" Rhoswen asked Hope

"You can ask me," the Sylph muttered, disgruntled. "I can talk."

"No idea," Hope shrugged, trying to act easygoing, trying to stay calm. Rhoswen was asking uncomfortable questions: what if he revealed there were no longer any Sylph, and he was responsible for their downfall? The only conscious human on Cocoon, he didn't want to alienate her.

To cover his silence, he took another bite of the meat.

"I did say you could talk to me," the Sylph muttered, irate

"Fine, what?" Rhoswen crossed her arms

"I don't know," the Sylph admitted after a few seconds, "My form is not being supported by that which supports all other Sylph. This is the apparent effect."

"Why aren't you supported?" Rhoswen's rapid words were somewhere between accusing and curious

"The Sylph are dead," it spoke calmly, as if he wasn't expecting a big fuss, nibbling his small share of the Cheqa after.

"What?" Rhoswen sounded like a thunderclap, sudden, unexpected.

"The Sylph died," Hope interjected, in an attempt to prevent any unwanted information getting out via the Sylph. "I don't know how much you know about them, but there's a kinda power source that keeps them all going. Recently, it left, so the Sylph died, and we're trapped here."

"Any proof?" Rhoswen's voice was casual now, as if she wasn't expecting any, and didn't really care.

"Like?" Hope laughed a bit, trying to sound at ease, "So, do you have proof you're not a Pulsian?" the old, racist words felt odd spoken in his mouth again, though they came easier than they should, propelled by his anger against fang and Vanille.

His father was dead again: he just couldn't get over that one, inescapable fact. Even when he tried, the thought drifted back, images, sound.

_His father was there, weary, half way through the Door of Souls. Then Vanille's rod, the antlers on the weapon curling around, a soft, deadly embrace. He fell away, lost into death. _

Everyone was falling.

Was he simply to forgive them? They were directly responsible, no doubt about it this time. What happened to them anyway? He made a mental note, if he ever made it off Cocoon, find out what happened after the Cradle fell.

"Trusting each other huh?" Rhoswen replied to Hope's remark. It took the silver haired man a few seconds to remember the trail of the discussion.

"Seems like it. Only humans there are here, Got to trust someone."

"Until that Sylph friend of yours can help the rest of us," Rhoswen sighed, pronouncing her words more like a statement than a suggestion.

The Sylph listened to those words, but didn't react, curling up tighter on the floor, recovering, and thinking.

Hope stayed silent, nibbling the Cheqa instead of responding. He didn't want to lie to the only other human, but also didn't want to tell the truth: even if the Sylph still had that ability by say, tomorrow, there was no way he'd use it. Why risk unleashing an army of the Sylph, ones most likely with memories lost as Fang and Vanille's had been?

No, he didn't want to lie.

But how could he tell the truth?


	34. Old Friends

**Here's the next chapter, Read/Review/Enjoy as always.  
For some reason, in the main story, there are one-line breaks and two-line-breaks spread at random throughout. Not sure what's caused it, and I've fixed the ones I saw. Sorry in advance if that makes it a bit of a pain to read. **

"You sure Choco can see through this fog?" Vanille asked, not for the first time.

She, along with all the others, Fang naturally being the closest were being lead through the thickening mist, Dajh in the lead, by Choco, who apparently possessed better eyesight. Or could scent the way ahead, Dajh hadn't been clear.

"Better than us," Fang shrugged, slowing her step for a second so Vanille walked into her. The Gran Pulsian kept the redhead close.

"I love you Fang," Vanille signed suddenly, blissful

"Where'd this come from?" Fang chuckled

"_Fang!_"

"I know," the black haired woman chuckled, "I love you too, you know I do. You're just so cute when you get annoyed."

"Yay!" the redhead chirped, throwing her arms around the elder Gran Pulsian, "So are you."

"Am not," Fang crossed her arms

"Are too!" Vanille giggled at the childishness of the statements, "Why don't you like being cute?"

"I'm not the cute one," Fang chuckled too, "That was always you."

"Can't we both be?" Vanille reached up, curling her arm and squeezing Fang's cheek. The black haired woman batted Vanille's petite hand out the way, laughing openly.

"Is that any way to behave Yun Vanille?"

"You tell me, Dia Fang," the redhead hopped a little with the thrill of the names, "Wow that sounds odd. I liked Yun."

"I was fond of Dia too," Fang chuckled, "How `bout we just mix up the names?"

"Oerba Dia-Yun Fang," Vanille giggled, "That sounds worse…"

"I like Yun-Dia," Fang ran her hand through Vanille's soft locks, "Oerba Yun-Dia Vanille, and Oerba Yun-Dia Fang."

"You just want to go first," the redhead chuckled

"So did you," they were both grinning, laughing a little, by this point, "You've gotta admit though, Yun-Dia does sound better."

"Suppose," Vanille seemed downcast fro a moment, before she seemingly changed her mind and hopped up, springing a long, still beaming, "As long as you make it up to me!"

"How should I do that?" Fang grinned impishly, hands wandering a little lower than they should in polite company.

Well, the mist had its uses then. Dajh, Cid and Bartholomew were just in front of them, yet in the increasingly thick, woolly fog, even their outlines could barely be seen. Vanille's constant grip one of the other's jacket was all that kept them together. Despite the frustrating surroundings, Fang appeared to have found one perk; she could get away with a lot more despite the people around her.

"Not like _that_," Vanille giggled, speaking after a fair few seconds' caress.

"Normally works," Fang chuckled, not moving her hand from its resting place on Vanille's torso

"Almost did," the redhead admitted, voice chiming.

"So…" Fang prompted after Vanille paused, possible a little distracted by Fang's ministrations

"Oh yeah!" Vanille exclaimed, "I want to plan the wedding!"  
Fang's eyes widened.

"You sure?" the raven haired Gran Pulsian replied after a few moments, "Nothing else will do?"  
"Nope," Vanille giggled, "I've had practise, remember!"

Fang did, all too well. A friend from the Oerban orphanage had been getting married, and enjoyed slightly more perky ceremonies, so naturally Vanille was invited to help with the planning. The event had been fun, no doubt of that, if one ignored the fire shortly after, the two or three houses that collapsed, and the meal that woke up midway through the ceremony and caused absolute chaos.

"Scared you!" the redhead giggled upon just about making out the expression on Fang's face, rubbing noses with the raven haired beauty

"You…weren't serious?" Fang panted after a few seconds

"Nope!" Vanille chimed, "Well…mostly." She hurried on upon seeing the expression of horror on Fang's face, "I do want to have some say!"

"You can," Fang ruffled the redhead's silky hair, "On a few conditions."  
"Oh…" Vanille pouted

"No flans mixed in with the mousse,"

"Ok," Vanille sighed

"If you hunt any of the meals, please make sure it's actually dead before you bring it,"

"Yep! That was an accident…"

"And no fireworks stuffed into the bride's dress."

"Which bride?" Vanille giggled

"_Both _of us," Fang rolled her eyes

"You're sure?"

"Completely."

"Alright then…" the redhead sighed. "Still love you," she perked up almost instantly.

"Same," Fang chuckled, "Ok, I'll say it. I love you, Oerba Yun-Dia Vanille."

"Not yet," the redhead playfully nipped at Fang's neck.

"Soon though," Fang murmured, wistful, looking up at the invisible sky, concealed by the thick mist.

They walked on, the two engaged Gran Pulsians in each others' arms, with Vanille holding onto someone else. The golden feathers of Choco were the brightest thing nearby, the vivid colours still swallowed by the choking fog.

An odd ripple of wind passed through the fog, mostly unnoticed. Soon however, it curled around one of the people in the group, just one, creating a subtle outline in the moist air. As if it was alive. That one person, the target of the mist. Another ripple, and the person was flung sideways, away from the rest of the group, vanishing quickly from sight in the now almost opaque weather. The shell the mist had created, the outline of the man, held. All who touched him now touched the empty mist, unable to feel any difference, nor able to see any, due to an odd darkening of the element.

The one thrown away soon rose from the ground. Cid Raines. He looked around, trying to see whatever it was that had moved him. He tried to shout, to make a noise, but the mist was everywhere, even in his throat, absorbing all noise, its chill touch making him shiver.

He stood stock-still there for what felt like hours, feeling the droplets in the mist run over him. Somehow the best word he could think of, to describe the sensation, was curious. Both because it was an odd feeling, and because that was what he would swear, if the water was capable of feeling, that was how it felt, curious.

An image entered his mind suddenly, a bizarrely vivid memory. It was from when he was a Sylph. Just before he remembered he was Cid Raines.

Raines fell to his knees, his mind on fire from the old thoughts. The ring of Sylph, in front, mocking, then, a burst of anger, fury. A…a…

A choking cold pierced his skin. He'd summoned his Eidolon. He hadn't seen it properly; but he could remember the feelings it evoked. Mist, fog, a creature of mist.

And Eidolons resided here.

And they tested their owners upon first meeting. Last time, events hadn't exactly leant themselves towards such an opportunity. The summon had burnt itself out, dissolving the Sylph.

Now the Eidolon was ready, single minded, to carry out what was once its aim. Was Cid worthy? And if not, should he be saved from the despair he felt at being trapped in death? Not the amount of despair which would normally call a summon, but combined with the hopelessness which had created it originally…

The Eidolon of mist, a creature, a dragon of sorts. Mist Dragon? There'd been something like that in Cocoon myths.

He stood completely still, like the ice within the icy being of mist. Frozen.

"I will pass your test," he said, with a calm, resoluteness in his voice.

But how was he to fight it? The Mist Dragon was as good as insubstantial; air, he was facing simple air. For that matter, how was the being to test him?

Well, he wasn't supposed to battle it, as such, from what he'd read, while Eidolons may have fought with their wielders, the l'Cie were only expected to essentially impress the beings. How was he to impress mist?

Around him, the moist air turned to a biting cold. It was as if the fog had become snow, freezing, pressing on every available piece of skin, the chill air moving through his clothes, ice on his cheeks, his arms, down his throat and pooling in his insides. So, so cold…

Was that the test?

He stood his ground, making a conscious effort to muffle the shivers, the need to move. He gritted his teeth, preventing them from chattering. Now to wait it out. A test of patience with the subzero mist.

Mist, maybe once it had been, now it was more like a blizzard, elaborate patterns of snowflakes kept in place by some overriding intelligence. His Eidolon: the thought gave him a kind of thrill. Their relationship was nothing like the friendship Fang and Vanille had with theirs, hell, it wasn't even remotely positive at the moment. Though, he hoped, maybe it would evolve into some sort of respect.

If he could just get past the cold…

There would be no fight. A fight would be impossible; an attack would pass straight through the being. Was endurance the challenge? From the legends, and the tales he'd been told, it was wholly possible.

A pity there was no clear way to see, that he knew of.

Just when it felt as if he'd fail, the mist around him swirled, instantly heating up to a warm temperature. A thin echo of the fog stayed around him, warming him up, as the rest of the icy blue air coalesced in front of him. Seconds ticked by, until a serpentine figure, under five metres in length, rested, curled easily over empty air.

Mist Dragon was an appropriate pseudonym. The body was made of mist, and resembled the long shape he'd called upon unwittingly against the ring of Sylph. Relatively thick, with fronds of what could almost be described as fur, formed of water, running over the incorporeal frame, up until the tail, which looked like a tiny pair of angel wings, snowflakes, both of them. The head could be seen as snakelike, though that word barely conveyed the majesty of it: true, it bore the same, rough shape, but there were none of the forbidding scales, only friendly cloud and mist, down to a closed jaw. When opened, icicle teeth spontaneously formed. The eyes were spheres of ice, tinged slightly jade, and elongated until they bore a more elliptical shape.

The Mist Dragon flew in a circle, showing off its long, smooth, graceful body, as silent as all other Eidolons, before it touched the ground, head on the ground, along with the slightly winged tail, the featureless body in between raised.

"A ride?" Cid frowned

Almost in response, the mist over the creature's midriff rippled, now forming a more comfortable seat. Blinking, Cid sat upon his Eidolon.

It was considerably more firm than he'd expected mist to be. As if it had frozen to ice, but as soft as snow, and yet, a further contradiction, the cold had been taken out of it, like the burst of warm mist that had previously enveloped him, to cure him from the cold.

The Mist Dragon took off, propelled by unknown means, presumably air currents. After half a minute of hasty, streamlined flight, the Mist Dragon landed. As Cid stood off, he reflected a little more on the creature. Come to think of it, it was distinctly feminine, with both poise and shape, and didn't Eidolons often turn out to be a different gender to the caller?

Dispelling those thoughts, Cid looked ahead. All the mist that once surrounded them had faded, all absorbed back into the Mist Dragon, her form not noticeably larger. Visible now, much closer after the journey, Fang, Vanille, Bartholomew and Dajh were look around, puzzled by what must have seemed, to them, to be Cid's sudden vanishing.

"Thank you," Cid bowed his head momentarily to his Eidolon, before looking at the rest of the group, a fair few hundred metres away. "I don't suppose you have any way to get their attention?"

Mist Dragon's eyes twinkled, though whether it was a deliberate move, or a glimmer of the afterlife's Sun on icy pearls of eyes, it was hard to tell. What was obvious though, was the titanic arrow shape drawn in the sky by the Mist's frame, pointing straight at Cid.

"Not what I meant," Raines muttered to himself, giving a snort of laughter at Vanille's melodramatic reaction in the distance, to seeing Cid.

After a few moments, they'd all run up to him.

"You've got an arrow on your head," Vanille giggled

"I noticed," Cid responded dryly

"So," Fang interjected before Vanille could make any snide remarks, "Care to tell us where you've been?"

"Of course. This is my Eidolon," Cid raised an arm into the air, the movement somehow made instinctive now the Mist Dragon was seemingly bound to him. The Mist coiled down, snaking down his palm and arm, until it formed a body in the air. This time, its form was a lot smaller; barely centimetres across, and mostly composed of ice laced with mist, rather than the other way around. The shrunken Eidolon looked around.

"You get an Eidolon?" Dajh looked around eagerly, chuckling

"I had one before," Raines shrugged simply, "Summoned to dispel the ring of Sylph."

"Does look kinda similar," Vanille tilted her head, reaching out to tickle the tiny being's curl of a body.

As the mismatched party all leant in around the tiny Mist Dragon, who was more than happy to be the centre of attention, a small figure watched from afar.

Not much could be said about her: she was small, but other than that, bore no distinguishing marks, save for one thing. Her lips. They were a brilliant azure shade.

And, watching the group, those haunting lips were pulled into a smile, one of peace, one of something possibly more sinister, as well as one of simple joy, happiness at a job well done.

X

"Sounds like you need a drink," Lebreau poured a glass of some unknown beverage, plonking the glass down next to a pink haired soldier

"Is that your answer to everything?" Lightning rolled her eyes

"Yep," Lebreau shrugged, "That'll be seventy gil."

"Huh?" Lightning blinked, "You gave it to me!"

"I know. Kidding. Sheesh, you ever lighten up?" Lebreau got herself a drink, before sitting opposite Lightning. "So, tell me about it. I run a bar remember? We make good listeners."

"It's Fang and Vanille," Lightning admitted eventually, taking a sip from her glass and savouring the taste.

"Say nor more. Love triangle huh?"

"Huh, _what_?" Lightning frowned, drink almost falling from her hand

"I've been reading the magazines. Quite interesting stuff."

"_No _Lebreau," Lightning rolled her eyes

"No juicy gossip? Too bad. What is it then?"

"They're dead."

"I noticed. NORA was present back then you know; we were the ones keeping the Sylph off ya back."

"They-"

"No, wait, lemme guess," Lebreau winked, "You're trying to bring `em back. You're easy to read Light."

"You know me," Lightning sighed, "I just can't do anything."

"C'mon now, I said I'd listen, never mentioned helping."

"Thanks," the barkeeper's remark elicited a small chuckle from Lightning, "They told me some myth that should help, but no one's heard of it."

"Well, what's it then?" Lebreau tilted her head, "Never underestimate the connections of a bartender."

"Something about a guy called Balduin," Lightning shrugged

"Balduin?" Lebreau paused, "Never heard of it."

"That was a lot of good."

"You never know until you try it. `sides, that all ya heard?"

"They told me to get some rest."

"Can't say no to that,"

"I _can_," Lightning rolled her eyes, "I need to help them."

"Well, Light?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel sorry for Serah if she has to put up with that attitude all the time."

"Watch it."

"Watch what"? Lebreau looked down at Lightning's glass, "Here, let me get you another drink."

Without waiting for a reply, the black haired barkeeper swiped the empty glass away, taking it into the bar's kitchen. She could normally just use the nozzles out front, but under the pretence of washing the glass, she could do more.

After a quick polish, Lebreau quickly rifled through a series of drawers, eventually reaching the medicine. Subtly, as if she was afraid Lightning would barge in at any moment, she dropped a powdery pill into the bottom of the glass.

Sleeping pills. Light needed sleep, and this was the easiest way. Normally it was for general medicinal purposes, she'd become an insomniac after the crystal sleep spanning centuries, though she did occasionally, and perhaps a tad irresponsibly, deal out a dose into the drinks of any rowdy customers, if the evening was wearing on, and they were getting drunk. Mostly just Gadot come to think of it.

Refilling the glass, the bartender left the kitchen and let it fall onto the pink haired soldier's table.

"Anything else ya want to get offa ya chest"? Lebreau folded her arms, watching with concealed interest as Lightning sipped at the new glass, blinking a fair bit.

"Balduin is bloody annoying," Lightning answered after a few seconds of thinking."

"You don't know much about him," Lebreau reminded the soldier

"That's why he's so annoying," Light's voice slurred a little, probably an effect of the pills

"He could be a nice guy."

"He's dead Lebreau."

"Unless the myth is true and it worked."

"Then…" Lightning paused, swaying back and forth, "Then Fang and Vanille are doing the wrong thing, instead of searching for information there, we should…" she panted, eyes unwillingly drawings hut, "We should be searching for him _here_!"

Lightning met Lebreau's gaze for a split second with a brief, triumphant look, before she fell down onto the table, almost comically, softly asleep.

"Pills shouldn't be that strong," Lebreau muttered to herself, extricating herself from the chair and table, "Perhaps you're more tired than ya let on, huh Light?"

Naturally, the soldier did not reply.

Sighing, Lebreau hefted up Lightning's surprisingly light body, carrying her bridal-style out of the bar, towards her velocycle just outside.

"Better get ya home, "Lebreau muttered, "Times like this, the Sylph would really come in handy."

Gently, the soldier was rested along the front seat of the velocycle, belted up securely, snugly, without awaking her. Lebreau sat on just on the back, reaching over the sleeping body to drive the cycle.

Come to think of it, Lightning looked strangely serene; despite her aging in her interludes from crystal stasis, she could easily be mistaken for the energetic, younger soldier during the whole l'Cie mess, so long as one was prepared to overlook a few wrinkles here and there, and the few grey streaks in her hair. Her for-once still, restful features were easily beautiful.

After a few minutes, Lebreau parked the vehicle outside a house. The black haired woman got off the bike, took a few steps, and knocked tentatively on the door. After a few seconds, it opened.

"Hi?" Snow stood behind it, "Oh, Lebreau, good to see ya."

"Thanks Snow," the barkeeper stopped, noticing a young girl, with short, pale, pale blond hair peer out from behind the man's knee. "So that's Alexi now, huh?"

"Yep," Snow grinned, looking down at his daughter, "She's _supposed _to be getting to bed."

Alexi giggled

"Speaking of getting to bed," Lebreau paused, "You mind if I use up your spare room?"

"Should be able to, don't think Serah has any plans. Moving out of the NORA flat are you?"

"No, no," Lebreau shook her head, "It's not for me. Lightning's asleep on my bike, and I can't get her into her house with no key." the NORA member stepped to the side, showing the softly breathing pink haired soldier.

"`Bout time she got some rest." Snow stepped out of the house, to help lift the drugged, sleeping Lightning indoors.

Lebreau did feel a little guilty, truth be told, but the soldier really needed some rest, for once.

The elder Farron was helped into her sister's house, sound asleep. Alexi watched her aunt for a little bit, before deciding she should go to bed too.


	35. What Lurks Behind

**Sorry there was quite a wait. In any case, I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. the whole story has been planned out, but knowing me, I'm probably going to deviate from most of it. Ah well, what can you do?**

The muddled party found their way into a cave in the vast plains of death. Tiredness was overtaking Fang and Vanille again, and a storm was brewing. No fog though; that seemed to just be the work of the Mist Dragon. The Dragon which was now about half a metre long, and draped like a scarf over Cid's shoulders.

Blocking the entrance of the cave with its bulk, Bahamut acted as the gate, also flicking a small fire into life, in the centre of the cave, for warmth. Most of the party grouped around it, including Hecatoncheir, and the Mist Dragon, which had now formed a blanket of sorts with its vapour body. The only two not in the centre were Fang and Vanille, the only ones seemingly able to feel tired.

A crash of thunder outside, and the hypnotic patter of rain.

The two Gran Pulsians lay by the wall, Fang with her arms wrapped around the redhead, holding Vanille close.

One more crash of thunder.

"You asleep?" Fang whispered

"Yes,"

"Ha, ha," Fang chuckled. "Ya never get to sleep huh?"

"You can talk!" Vanille giggled.

There was silence for a few moments, during which the Gran Pulsians just embarked, huddling closer, not out of an out-of-reach tiredness, but out of closeness. Even beyond death, love still remained.

A muffled moan from Bahamut jolted the occupants of the cave out of their drowsiness. Around the fire, the group looked towards the dragon, on guard.

"Here!" a man's voice could just be heard from behind the Eidolon.

Strange looks were exchanged among the group.

"Wanderer!" the man cried again," Word is, you search. I help!"

"Let him in. Our Eidolons can protect us," Cid was the first to suggest a course of action. Fang and Vanille remained, huddled like a couple of spoons, still, at the side of the cave. They were facing away from the events, though they could still here.

"I am of Oerba," the man spoke, voice heavily accented, clearer now. Perhaps Bahamut had moved, allowing the man access. "I hear Chosen search, I help. They heroes to we."

"Nice to know," Dajh replied, just understanding the man's disjointed speech, "What have you heard then?"

"Word says you look. Wanderer."  
"That's right. Can you help?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"The Chosen wish?"

"Fang and Vanille do want to find the Wanderer, yes. It's probably their only chance of living again."

"I understand not."

"Don't worry about it," Dajh sighed, shaking his head. It was hard enough making out meaning in the accented, half-made speech, than explaining something even he didn't fully understand. Instead, he just looked up at the man's long, sodden hair and face, grey eyes watching

"Chosen wish for aid?" the man spoke again

"That's what I've been saying."

"Wanderer speaks. They see her."

"What? I don't understand," Dajh frowned

"Wanderer speaks," the man insisted again, pausing," She speaks, a message fro Chosen."

"You spoke to the Wanderer?" Bartholomew Estheim interjected, thinking he understood. The newcomer nodded hastily. "You're sure?"

"Blue lips," he shook

"He's met her," Bartholomew announced, examining the man's expression.

"Wanderer speaks to chosen."

"She's already spoken to them?" Dajh frowned. The newcomer shook his head, water dripping from his flailing greyed locks, each soaked in the rain outside. He paused, as if thinking of a better way to say it.

"I know not time," he frowned, "False," he paused, unsure

"Tenses?" Dajh frowned, receiving a nod in reply, "Old Pulse huh?"

"Eight hundred," the man spoke, before shaking his head, "Irrelevant."

"Eight hundred years?" Dajh blinked, "No, you're right, just one of the ones who linger, nothing major considering… Tenses, the Wanderer wants to speak to Fang and Vanille?"

"True," the man nodded.

In the corner of the room, Fang's grip around the redhead tightened somewhat. The Wanderer, whoever the blue lipped stranger was, wanted to speak to them. While they looked for the Wanderer, she was searching for them too, spreading messages from old, old 'ghosts', ones who lingered in this level of death longer than they should.

And they were to meet? Vanille remembered the haunting presence she'd seen long ago. Most of the memory had faded, and yet those lips stayed burned in her memory.

For her part, Fang was incredibly curious. Such reverence had been given to the Wanderer, from Bartholomew and Vanille. She wanted to see this Wanderer too, see the mysteries, and the lips that were seemingly so, so memorable.

Fang passed the blue leaf through her fingers, one apparently given to them by the Wanderer. It had lead them to Lightning. Perhaps now the Wanderer would take them to her instead.

Vanille glanced down at the flash of blue in the raven haired woman's hands. Curious, she flicked the leaf away with a nimble finger, eyes glancing through the script.

_Dear One, Sacrifice._

The words had changed. Vanille blinked, reading through it again, before passing it back to Fang, trying to seem still, asleep to the rest of the animatedly nattering cave. As her arm moved back, Vanille could've sworn it was, if only for a second, unnaturally pale, as it had been before. The illusion faded however.

Slowly, Fang read through the maternal script, pocketing the blue leaf again.

"Sacrifice," the elder woman whispered, "Doesn't sound good."

"Could be a place," Vanille shrugged, "There was that old stone circle in the plains, remember the myths there?"

"fal'Cie to sacrifice, servants to fall? That old proverb?" Fang frowned, "Suppose it is a sacrifice of sorts. I guess that was what the legends called it, Seat of Sacrifice."

"As ominous as it sounds?" Vanille giggled, though her voice was an edgy squeak.

"I hope not," Fang pressed a kiss to Vanille's neck. "Well, we could sacrifice Cid if we have to. He annoyed me," Fang chuckled, the only sign she was joking

"You sure it would work?" Vanille giggled, "We killed him in the Ark, then he got killed on Cocoon, now he's back."

"He is dead though, we all are."

"Way to spoil the mood."

"What mood? The morbid one?" Fang chuckled, holding the redhead tighter.

"The happy one," Vanille giggled again, lightly elbowing the taller woman

"We were talking about killing someone. Not really a happy thought."

"You started it!"

"_You _went into detail."

"Change subject," Vanille suddenly shook her head, squeaking.

Silence for a little while. They were thinking of what the future held: once they'd slept and awoken, they were to find the 'Sacrifice'. Was that the ring of stones that was in the plains? Well, the stones were there in life. Would they be there in this afterlife? They doubted it, but really, there was no way to be sure.

There were so, so many myths centred on the Cie'th Stone circle. Some said an ancient fal'Cie had fallen there, hence the proverb, and the stones were the last l'Cie it had struck and branded, a final act of revenge. That was the most popular tale, for the proverb and morale: don't tangle with a fal'Cie. With the almost-worship the beings were given on old Gran Pulse, force of nature incarnate, it was not surprising such reverence was given, even in myth.

There were other tales however: ranging from tragically beautiful love stories, to the most chilling horror.

There was a fairy tale detailing two people eloping from their possessive families, to be married. Catching wind of this, a group of thugs was set up to kidnap them and bring them home, almost succeeding, were a fal'Cie (Madeen, a fey being common in children's tales) not to intervene. Impressed by the love of the couple, Madeen turned the thugs and the families to stone, letting the couple depart, wedded, and blessed.

On a darker note, some told the story of a mercenary, a severe, cold-blooded assassin. Hired by a paranoid ruler, the assassin, a woman in many versions of the tale, was made to take the life of all l'Cie borne of a certain fal'Cie. The specific fal'Cie varied from myth to myth, but in all, it was a powerful fal'Cie. Titan was a commonly used one. In any case, the woman succeeded in her task for many months, claiming many lives, until Titan, or whoever, sought her out, demanding to know why so many l'Cie had been lost. Furious upon finding out the truth, the fal'Cie commanded the mercenary to claim the life of her employer: frightened by the fal'Cie's wrath, she obeyed, and still Titan was not satisfied. She was made to carry out the Focus of every l'Cie she'd killed, and even when that was done, the fal'Cie gave her one last punishment. Along with her closest friends, all of which innocent, she was turned to Cie'th, and then stone, to wallow in her guilt eternally.

Whichever tale was chosen, those or the many others, the Seat of Sacrifice as the ring was known, was never a happy place. And one thing could be said: given the choice, you never wanted to set foot there, especially to meet a stranger.

While the tales might not be true, Fang and Vanille doubted many of them, they were enough to give pause. If and when they did arrive at the Seat of Sacrifice, why had such a haunted place been chosen as a meeting point?

"Remember anything about Balduin?" Vanille squeaked, changing the subject, both of them grateful for it.

"Balduin? Oh, that story. Nah, you?" Fang snuggled into Vanille

"Nope! Well, he was popular, died, and people wanted to bring him back. That's all."

"Think it's true?"

"Who knows?" Vanille squeaked, "It's the best we have."

X

Hope opened his eyes, waking up from his deep sleep, concealed in what was little more than a cupboard. Just outside it, the chill air of Cocoon lay, populated by crystal and Cie'th. Rhoswen and the transforming Sylph were out there too, somewhere. He was the first to really feel tired though, so they'd split up. Hopefully they'd be coming back soon, if the Cie'th hadn't gotten the best of them.

Struggling, Hope writhed from beneath a thick woollen cover he'd spent the night in. It was tough to get his arms free; once he did though, he felt around, and pushed when he felt the door. Gasping, he toppled out blinking in the new, electrical light.

The Sylph and Rhoswen weren't back yet then. At least the Cie'th were staying away: the one good thing so far, save for the stroke of luck, of finding the Cheqas in crystal. He didn't know how he'd fare in a battle now, alone, especially against Cie'th.

Blinking, Hope looked up and around the crystals, light casting eerie shadows as it fell through their translucent frames. No sign of the others there. Hope sighed. He should stay here then, wait it out, wait for them.

And then what/ He'd tried to keep those thoughts at bay for his journey here, but now they were swelling up, escaping. Now what? What was he to do? He was on Cocoon, exiled, unable to get home. To top it off, the die-hard patriots of so many centuries ago were here, asleep in crystal for all that time. Memories erased by the Sylph it seemed; the Sylph they all-but worshipped, the Sylph which had been lost.

The Sylph army. The words came unbidden to his mind: that was how he thought of them. Asleep, to be used like tools, by the Sylph, the Maker. But willing tools, deceived tools. Did Rhoswen care, did any of them care, that all they had was the word of complete strangers?

Or was it something else the Sylph had done? Rhoswen didn't sound as if she had any memory, except for fraudulent ideas implanted by the Sylph. If she remembered nothing, that made her little more than a child: innocent, trusting. Gullible.

A surge of anger passed through hope. In every other case, the Sylph had done too much, but now…here… The lives of so many ruined, and they'd been abused, taken advantage of, trust betrayed. For what? Simply to be forgotten, to be discarded when others rebelled against the Sylph, despite undergoing the same treatment. Fang and Vanille.

Another spike of anger passed through him; while it may have been irrational, he now had another place to pin the blame Fang and Vanille. It was their fault the Sylph had left Rhoswen and the others here: just like it was their fault his father had died once again.

As his eyes focused, he was violently taken back to reality. Trapped, abandoned, with Rhoswen, who would kill him most probably if she knew the truth, and a Sylph, of unknown identity, slowly transforming back into a human.

Things weren't going well.

Tap.

The silver haired man turned, to see that very same Sylph, now as tall as a young teenager, pulling himself along the wall with finger-like frays in his leaves. His lower body had split somewhat, a few centimetres up the centre of the stalk, giving him access to a small, shuffling gait.

The Sylph was alone.

"Where's Rhoswen?" Hope frowned

"Left her. She'll find us," the Sylph sounded somehow, even reluctantly, bitter.

"Why don't you like her?"

"She makes me remember," the Sylph shivered, stumbling a little, off-balance in its growing body

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It is when you remember what I remember."

"You know who you are now?"

"I wish. Naturally not, that would be too easy. But there are…flashes, glimpses, Sylph shared memories or my own, I do not know."

"What'd you see then?"

"Rhoswen. Mostly. On Pulse. The Sylph either kidnapped her and took her up here, or they employed her back then. I wish I knew why. And one other thing."

The Sylph acted as if it was going to speak, but instead withdrew, tense, shaking a little.

"What is it?" Hope knelt down, his eyes now level with the Sylph's bent head

"She's PSICOM," the Sylph muttered shakily.

Silence.

PSICOM. The dreaded PSICOM, Cocoon's old army. After the Fall, most of them had dissolved into other aspects of the military; but there were always some, die-hard patriots like those who remained on the shell of Cocoon, some who hated the growing acceptance of all things Pulse in society. While some were eager to make a new start in life, making do with Pulse, there were always some clamouring to retake Cocoon.

PSICOM remnants were the most vocal. Shouting, screaming, shrieking, doing anything for attention, and for more voices to rally behind their cause, to move back to Cocoon, even should the trip prove not only impossible, but impractical. How were they to live in the lifeless wreck?

Nonetheless, some did listen. Hordes of people, a fair few hundred, crippling losses in addition to those who died in the Fall, left, lead by PSICOM remnants. Apparently, the Sylph picked them up.

And yet, now it seemed Rhoswen was of their number. The cold-hearted PSICOM remnants trekking back to their lost birthplace. An almost admirable group, if Hope didn't know them better: they were vicious, uncaring. Those who were happy on Pulse suffered much at the hands of gangs and rabbles, stirred up by the remnants.

And Hope had yet more reason to hate them. The first time his father, Bartholomew Estheim, had died, his life had been claimed by one of the PSICOM remnants. Halyard Lee Wevos.

Just like Fang and Vanille, Rhoswen also had betrayed him, however unwittingly.

Tears sprung to his eyes. Hope tried to conceal them, looking away. With all the strangers around him, he didn't want to be seen like this. He felt sick. He was relying on Rhoswen: l'Cie magic, her water spells gave them drinks, her magic cooked the Cheqas for food. She was needed. And yet…

"There you are!" as if summoned, Rhoswen's voice carried through the chamber.

"Don't tell her," Hope whispered after internal deliberation, "Don't tell her we know."

The tall Sylph nodded, hand still resting on the wall.

The apparently PSICOM Rhoswen ran up to them. Now he knew what he was looking for, Hope could see how she was among the remnants: there was little excess fat on her body, muscles just pushed up below her skin, and Hope had never known her to pant from exertion, physical exertion at least. Magic was a different story. In any case, they all pointed to physical expertise: military expertise even. Like PSICOM.

Too much like PSICOM.

"Tell your Sylph _friend_," she placed heavy sardonic emphasis on the last word, "That we need him to free us."

"Us?" Hope's insides clenched, "You mean the rest of the crystals."

"Of course she does," the Sylph's voice had flipped from the suave earlier tones, to an almost feral snarling, "I told you, I don't have the damn energy, even if I did, I wouldn't. End."

"_Why_?" Rhoswen was almost begging. Even Hope, as angry as he felt, found himself somewhat moved.

"Because I know you," the Sylph stiffened, struggling to straighten up, but meeting her gaze with a hardy glare, "I remember you, instinctual, but there.

"You know me?" Rhoswen stumbled, moving closer to the Sylph, grabbing onto its arms with slender hands, "Tell me! Tell me now!"

"Why?" the Sylph spoke quietly, calm, sneering, curling a lip upwards

"Do you know how it feels to know nothing except the present? That's why! It hurts."

"I do know how it feels," a cruel glint flashed in the Sylph's eyes, and he yanked his thickening arms from Rhoswen's hold.

The woman almost fell, balancing herself with a hand gripped around a hot neon light. Silent, the Sylph moved away, expression torn between an inhuman satisfaction, and something close to resentment.

The air around them started to sparkle. Hope looked around madly, caught off-guard: the Maker? Now? Had his father's sacrifice not been enough? He burned at the thought.

Then, stunned, he focused. The lights were different. Somehow. They were not the glimmering, snowflake shards of crystal, twinkling and rising. They resembled more…sapphire, inked cerulean, and ascending gently. And in the moment they appeared, they also faded, cascade, then a trickle, and then nothing. All the while, and a few seconds more, Rhoswen's l'Cie brand, her shoulder, shone like a star.

"What?" she murmured, breathlessly.

"I don't know," Hope replied after a second, inhaling from the shock of the lights. The Sylph had left them.

"That's just impossible," Rhoswen was still breathing heavily

"Huh?"

"It's just," Rhoswen paused, looking up, breath coming in gasps, "Sorry, hard to think. Lights gave me a lot to think about."

"Why?"

"I think I remember."

It took Hope a moment to take in what she'd said. Rhoswen remembered. Because of those lights? The almost Maker-lights? What were those lights? But in any case, most importantly: who was she?

Fortunately, she explained without any prompting. It seemed she needed to let it all out.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," she shuddered, "I was PSICOM. I was. But not as simple as that, oh I wish it was. I remember PSICOM too, remember them, how they were…I know you'll hate me. Hope Estheim, right? Always famous."

Rhoswen inhaled deeply, babbling. She was blinking rapidly, confused, afraid.

"We were on Pulse, heck, call it Gran Pulse, that's what they said to call it. Running, nomads in the plains. Not a fun life, I'm saying, not at all, but we didn't have a choice. Then our division of PSICOM came to Origin."

Hope shivered; he'd heard that story too many times. Origin was a village, a place of pilgrimage almost. The people of Cocoon who were the most accepting of Gran Pulse and its history: they were a group of people, from every conceivable place, no connection save for that which made them go to Origin, the settlement near Titan's Throne. They were proud of their descent from the ancient peoples of Pulse; their origin. Which was how they named themselves: Origin, those who accepted the source of humanity: Gran Pulse. Cocoon came later.

Naturally, the pilgrims at Origin didn't get on well with the die-hard Cocoon patriots of the PSICOM remnants. The Massacre of Origin still had monuments visited daily even at that time; five hundred years later.

"I was there, at Origin," Rhoswen stumbled over her words, jumpy, tearful, "Not by choice. How was I to know what followed? The screams, the fire, the blood, the rubble… The village was burnt to the ground. Your reports said there were no survivors: I only wish it was so. The heads of the sects were taken by some of the soldiers. It would have been better if they'd died, believe me…"

Rhoswen screwed her eyes up, shaking.

"That was when I made up my mind. I didn't want to be there, please believe me."

"Rhoswen-" Hope interjected. He knew she was PSICOM, the Sylph had said

"Please, let me finish!" she stuttered, "Don't judge me until you know it all."

She inhaled.

"I ran away," Rhoswen eventually spoke, "I fled, away from those monsters. And I did more: I betrayed PSICOM, gave away the location of our camps to the Guardian Corps. They were my friends, but I had to do it, to stop their murders. You never hear of the End of PSICOM? That's because it never quite happened, after all that, the Sylph took us all. Even me. The guardian Corps stumbled onto what we left behind."

Hope froze. This was part of the story he didn't know; was it true? Judging by her genuine emotional reaction, it seemed so.

"You missed a lot. They erased our memory once before, in just days, woke us from crystal, told us all that garbage, sent one of us to Pulse. You know who: Halyard. He never returned. We got the news though. But still, we remembered all of our lives, somehow, someone restored our memories. Like what just happened to me. That's why you found me like that; I was fleeing, away from the others. The Sylph froze us all once more."

Silence swelled after Rhoswen's monologue. Hope hadn't expected to hear that much, to have that much to think about.

"I…wow," he responded uselessly, "I don't know what to say…but that first time, first crystal, do you remember anything about what helped you remember?"

He was just curious: after being told such a story, it was hard to do anything except focus on the minor, the familiar.

"Flashes," Rhoswen admitted, slowly, thoughtful "Little bits. One thing in particular though: one feature. Blue lips."


	36. Myths

**Enjoy yourselves this chapter! Lots of plot progression coming up, and a few mysteries starting to be resolved.  
I'm working on a Christmassy oneshot for Final Fantasy XIII too, in breaks, plus my other story, so there may be a little delay. **

Garbed in a thick, grey cloak, Shemhazai glided through the crowded human streets. It was almost amusing to think they were unable to see any of her features; not her face, her hands, or even her wings.

A flicker of energy ran down her shoulder. She winced; it was hard to keep every part of her so withdrawn that she appeared human. Her normal form was a little bigger than a human could be; so she pulled everything inwards, her own kind of disguise. Fal'Cie magic.

It was all a measure of her need to help. The Chosen were once again lost: and it took this long to find out that they had even been taken to this city. Too long. They had died; albeit improperly. Her only hope was that they could be saved, so that she may be redeemed.

Fal'Cie had longer memories than most; coming from their long life-spans. Shemhazai could remember events from before the first crystal stasis of the Chosen, and for those events, she had to atone. She could not be plagued with such guilt for the rest of her life, and so if she had to bring Fang and Vanille back from beyond death itself, then so be it.

Lightning's house; easy to find. Freya as she was known here; famous for freeing Fang and Vanille. And Shemhazai had found her way there. Tentative, she knocked on the door with one 'hand'.

No reply.

Shemhazai closed her eyes. While Lightning was a l'Cie no more, the brand left a mark, a trace, visible to those who knew what to look for. As a fal'Cie, Shemhazai could sense it, with a little effort.

Not here.

The winged, brown being sighed, spreading out her senses further. Lightning was…there.

Hastily pacing through the streets, Shemhazai made her way to Serah's house. She was nervous now; these ex-l'Cie did not know her, if they saw her featureless, metallic face, things may not go as well as she'd hoped.

Within the house, Snow walked to the door, blinking rapidly. It was early morning; he'd already woken up, but his eyes were still gradually drifting shut. Doing his best to keep them open, he pulled on the door, revealing a mildly ominous figure, garbed in a cloak. He couldn't see any of the visitor's flesh.

"Rudra is the name you use, correct?" the newcomer spoke; her voice was feminine, yet resembled more a whinny than speech

"Um, I am Rudra, yes."

"Snow," the stranger replied, speaking firmly. A second's pause. "I need to talk to Lightning."

"Wait a second," Snow raised his hands, trying to conceal his shock, "You can't just-"

The stranger gave an annoyed neigh, lifting a hand-was it a hand?-and hooking it around her hood. The curled glove pulled back. A mostly smooth, metallic ball rested on her shoulders; silver, on the front, though the back and sides were tinged the shade of wood, and two little maroon spikes jutted out the sides, like here. Faint indentations in the frontal silver marked eyes.

"My name is Shemhazai," the impatient fal'Cie murmured, speaking calmly despite her annoyance, annoyed enough to ignore caution, "Lightning knows me, will you allow me to speak with her?"

A stunned silence ticked past, as Snow stared. Irate, Shemhazai lifted her hood once again.

"You might as well come in," Snow stepped back, "As if I could stop you. But please don't hurt anyone."

"I am not here to harm, only to help," the fal'Cie moved into the room, taking jerky steps. She shut the door with an almost incidental use of magic, closed her eyes to locate Lightning, and moved up the stairs, towards the sleeping soldier, with a little aid from her restrained wings.

Lightning slept calmly, draped across the guest bed of the household. Downstairs, Alexi shouted and screamed and squealed, eagerly running around as most young kids did. Serah was in the room, Shemhazai sensed. Such energy below, and yet up here, tranquillity, and the ever-alert Lightning, softly asleep.

Shemhazai watched the still, pink haired woman, patient. Fal'Cie lived so, so much longer than humans; patience evolved easily. And it was fascinating, the series of processes still going on; the steady inhalation, exhalation, and all the events within the soldier.

At some indistinct moment, several minutes later, Lightning opened her eyes. "Who's watching?" she muttered, disgruntled. The soldier sat up, recognizing the cloaked fal'Cie almost instantly. "Shemhazai," she sounded tired

"Yes," the fal'Cie bowed her head, "I must ask if you have made any further progress."

"No, none yet," Lightning furrowed her brow for a moment, before scowling, "That damn Lebreau drugged me!"

"To be honest, you did need sleep. May we move on? I came to discuss the Chosen."

"The Ch- Fang and Vanille? Of course we should- but why are you so concerned? I know you're a fal'Cie and all, need to fulfil your debt you said, but plenty of humans are less concerned than yo, and they practically worshipped them!"

"That is," Shemhazai paused for a split second, "Something I would rather not dwell on. May we move on?"

"Not until you tell me. Trust is key," Lightning sat up straighter, resolute, and doing her best not to sway from the after-effects of the drug.

"One who never gives up," Shemhazai smiled fondly, "I can see why Anima chose you."

"She didn't _choose _us at all, we just happened to be there. She took my sister," Lightning was not quite as angry as would be expected

"Indeed?" Shemhazai frowned, "It seems we fal'Cie are as prone to myth and sensationalism as human. Most interesting."  
"You should still tell me," Lightning spoke after a few seconds, "Why are you so keen to help?"

"I'm not proud of it," Shemhazai began, pausing, a small energy flicker darting back over her cheek.

"We've all done things we're not proud of."

"I suppose you can say such a thing," Shemhazai paused momentarily, "Though it gives me no pleasure, I will have to say."

"Thank you," Lightning nodded.

Shemhazai was silent for a few more seconds before speaking.

"It was in the days before their first branding. The day while Oerba still stood proud, and the Chosen departed for Devil's Peak, and Cocoon, which hung above. Ragnarok was to be invoked, and yet do not forget, this was in the days before many knew what Ragnarok entailed. No, I shall not try to make excuses, I must simply tell the tale."

Subconsciously, a broad, feathered wing flexed, pushing against the confines of the cloak behind it.

"In those days I was but a harpy, my haunt a valley in the wastes. I paid no mind to the affairs of humans, I have branded few in my long life, none of whom became Cie'th. That is one thing I am proud of, and please think on that before you judge me," the fal'Cie's voice sounded, as always, like a loud whisper. "I had not heard of the Chosen nor their quest. But I sensed l'Cie passing through my territory: I attacked them."

Pause. Lightning's breath caught for a moment but, trained as she was, the pink haired soldier soon recovered, showing little reaction. Shemhazai, odd for a fal'Cie, stumbled over her next few words.

"They escaped, truthfully. That is obvious: I suffered little: one scratch on my wing. Since I discovered who the Chosen were, I have refused to let that scratch heal."

Demonstrating, the fal'Cie flicked up her cloak, releasing both wings from their tight constraints, narrowly avoiding the walls either side. A little energy ran along one, and in the centre of one, a small, clear scratch was visible; a patch with none of the russet feathers, only a blackened zigzag.

"I am truly sorry," Shemhazai whispered. "Please believe me. I did much harm, more than I would now. I request you give me the trust you told me to give you. Apologies."

The whispers of Shemhazai fell silence, as a few more seconds ticked past. Lightning watch the being with cautious eyes, her gaze occasionally dropping to the obvious damage to the wing. The soldier inhaled and exhaled in a steady rhythm, thinking.

"You hurt Fang and Vanille," Lightning spoke evenly

"That is why I wish to redeem myself. Accept me or not, but I shall find a way to aid them."

Pause.

"Now," Shemhazai breathed, "You see why I did not want to share my past."

"I do," Lightning sighed, unwittingly slipping into Shemhazai's formal cadences, "I should through you right out of this house."

"And you would had you behaved any better," Shemhazai finished

Lightning looked up sharply

"I find myself attuned to l'Cie," Shemhazai shrugged her winged shoulders, feathers rippling, "It is not hard to see how you think. You are anything but a hypocrite, and while we may be given to idle gossip and sensationalism, they do not entirely eclipse the truth."

"We all do things we're not proud of," Lightning repeated her words from earlier, "You attacked them. I did the same, two strong blows straight at Fang," Lightning bit back a sly smile at the memory, "And I didn't trust Vanille. I left her behind with PSICOM running after us."

The two sat in silence for a little while, reflecting. Could anyone, human or fal'Cie, claim to be perfect? It was always that one, lofty, unattainable goal. For both races. Lightning wanted to be perfect for her sister, for Serah, and for Fang and Vanille. Shemhazai wished to become perfect by redemption through aiding those she'd harmed.

And plummeting down, far, far below the lofty reaches of perfection, the two sat by each other, an odd couple: fal'Cie and old woman. They both thought of similar things: forgiveness, and saving two Gran Pulsians from death itself.

"Have you heard of a myth about Balduin?" It was Lightning who broke the silence

"Balduin?" Shemhazai nodded, "I know the name."

"You do?" Lightning blinked; she hadn't expected to find answers so easily

"We live a long time, we fal'Cie," Shemhazai nodded slowly, "I see how that tale may be relevant. They say the whole world wept at his passing."

"Fang and Vanille, they said people tried to bring him back to life."

"They would be correct," Shemhazai nodded slowly

"Do you know how?"

"I am afraid not. I did not mix with humans in those days."

A sigh escaped the soldier's lips. The fal'Cie's wings flexed, before being drawn inwards, a sign of tension in the normally stony being.

"We will have to find one of the now-living dead," Shemhazai stated, "One who knows of the myth."

"That would work, I guess."

Shemhazai nodded, stretching her neck, and pulling most of her body inwards, trying to recreate her human façade. A bolt of energy ran up her face.

"What aren't you telling me?" Lightning sighed

"Huh?" the reserved fal'Cie gave off a sudden exclamation

"Those marks. They didn't appear last time, only this time, when you were hiding something."

"I see," Shemhazai let off a slow breath, "Yes, I will answer," she looked up

"Well?" Lightning demanded

"I have heard of Balduin: the word was spread quickly by beast and man. The peoples of Gran Pulse appeared to wish to tell as many about his demise: while I do not commonly follow the news of humanity, or at least I did not then, it was hard not to hear of Balduin." Shemhazai's whispers grew somehow quieter, yet they were delivered with a greater urgency, a greater impact.

The fal'Cie looked up with those wide, featureless, metallic, shallow eyes, light glinting off their surface, as she spoke again. "I cannot ever recall hearing Balduin ever rose again."

X

Two women made their way across the purely natural landscape of Gran Pulse in death. A redhead and a raven-haired, both with Eidolons, and several friends, one with an Eidolon too, and a chocobo. The two Gran Pulsians laughed despite the grim setting, making witty exchanges, games, and generally enjoying themselves and the others' company.

From a distance, a blue-lipped being observed.

"Seat of Sacrifice," Fang said the words again, "That's where we're headin', and it sure as hell better not be as grim as it sounds."

Vanille giggled.

Though they did not realize it, the blue lipped watcher recognized the path they took; the exact same path had been taken thousands of years ago, to the same area. Many had trekked on an unwitting pilgrimage, towards that same spot.

The Seat of Sacrifice was a stone circle; not ordinary stones though, Cie'th Stones. The eternally frozen stone beings, in a ring, an odd formation, and despite the many legends, none were certain why it even existed. Yet all treated it with a reverence nonetheless, the circle of the lost l'Cie, unknown, the enigma in the centre of the plains.

Back on the fresh, yet in life, well-worn, track to the Seat of Sacrifice, Vanille fiddled with the small blue leaf. It still bore the word _Sacrifice_, in clear, flourishing writing. As it should, the word invoked feelings of tension, fear. Any place with 'Sacrifice' in the name was no holiday destination, that was for sure.

The Wanderer watched, pulling her blue lips tightly back in an unpractised smile. The stories told of the Seat of Sacrifice were all very well, but the Wanderer knew the truth. A fal'Cie, name lost to history, though most likely Titan, had branded a human. That Focus also had been lost to the mists of history, even among the dead to whom the Wanderer routinely spoke. All that was known, was that it was never completed. The l'Cie had made it to the then-featureless Seat of Sacrifice, a lifeless hill on the ground. Screams, shouts, desperation and depression. Waiting for the only release there was: death.

"How long until we're there?" Vanille squeaked, running forwards to Fang. She shivered in the cold light of the afterlife Sun

"Not too long," Fang paused, "I hope. Never thought it'd be so hard to look around with none of our structures anywhere. Not even any Cocoon."

"I know," Vanille sighed, "Strange we were so reliant on it when we hated it."

"Only landmark we could always see," Fang chuckled at the irony.

The watching Wanderer slipped smoothly along the ground, following the party. Still observing, she continued to remember the history of the seat of Sacrifice: sadness practically in her veins, the l'Cie had made it to the Seat of Sacrifice and fallen, giving up. Laying still as she awaited death, or the transformation to Cie'th. Her great desperation had called all the way into death, and the Goddess Etro had given her messenger to the l'Cie, an Eidolon. There had been no resistance, and the l'Cie was struck down; however, as she lay dying, her brand completed its circuit. With her Eidolon still summoned, the woman had become Cie'th.

Such energy had been released… the ancient Wanderer paused in her movements as she remembered. The Eidolon, no longer bound to any l'Cie, and yet caught in life. The identity of that Eidolon too had been lost to time, though the Wanderer could remember its ancient, sleek form. None knew its fate however; some said it still lived there, watching over the world, while some said it had killed itself, unwilling to be unbound. In any case, there were subtle repercussions to the Eidolon's newfound freedom. For days after, the immediate after-effect, Cie'th were drawn to that area, their mindless bodies instinctively moved for the hill on which the ultimate regret had been experienced. Souls seeking souls: the Cie'th, mired in grief, toward the Seat of Sacrifice, mired by the grief of l'Cie and Eidolon.

Several of the Cie'th visitors were close to freezing upon arrival. These were those who formed the circle: those who turned to stone and waited out the centuries, irredeemable.

The truth may lack the dark glamour of the myths, but as it was the true story, the Wanderer felt it must be preserved, if only for that reason.

The place to which Cie'th were once drawn. While the attraction faded quickly, the foreboding that veiled the Seat remained. The location at which the damned converged, the place where Cie'th wandered, even if only for a few days. Where those who had made the ultimate sacrifice went: the seat at which an Eidolon had been rent from she who summoned it.

All in all, the Seat of Sacrifice was the ideal name for it. Anything but cheerful; setting a perfect mood for the place.

"Why'd ya think we gotta go there?" Fang eventually spoke, breaking the bored silence. The Wanderer watched from a distance, with interest in the casual niceties.

"Why not?" Vanille shrugged, "Where's the fun if something's easy? Better when they go for super-scary places."

"Seat of Sacrifice," Fang intoned dully, "that's not scary, that's just pretentious."

"They can be the same thing," giggling, the redhead responded

"Yeah," a shrug, "I'd rather just have a map and a lift."

"We could take the Eidolons."

"We're taking them. They're coming with us."

"You know what I mean," Vanille sighed

"We could, but don't want to scare this Wanderer lippy person off."

The blue-lipped, distant figure smiled hauntingly at Fang's nickname for her. It was instructive to know what others thought, always, and the brutal honesty of Fang, especially when the Gran Pulsian didn't know the Wanderer listened in, fulfilled that to extremes.

The lips, was it? People seemed to come up with new features every few hundred years, first it was pale skin, then her seemingly sightless eyes, now her vivid lips. Granted, it was a curiosity but, she supposed, in the end it was little more than that.

And idle curiosities meant little with such major events folding before her, as they had so often before. Nothing as important as this though: as if to highlight her thoughts, there was a crack of thunder somewhere in the distant sky. The first ever storm in death.

With a sigh, Vanille slipped the thin curl of a leaf back into her pocket. She felt an odd comfort reading it; some caring stranger, _Dear One,_ as the elegant script put it. Someone was watching over them, however unsuccessfully.

"What happened to you?" Fangs topped in her tracks, looking straight at Vanille. A few seconds passed, before the raven haired warrior blinked, and looked away again. "Dammit, second time that's happened."

"What'd you see?" Vanille tilted her head, frowning, leaning forwards so that the elder woman had to acknowledge her

"Same as before," Fang replied after a few moments, "You looked pale."

"How pale?"

A few moments of silence, before Fang unsheathed her spear, and swung it, pointing it at a small dash of colour in the otherwise green landscape. "That pale," Fang muttered.

The Wanderer muttered some ancient profanity: she'd been seen! That wasn't meant to happen yet, not until the Seat of Sacrifice where she had the most power. Eyes locked on the pointed tip of Fang's weapon, the Wanderer tensed-

-and an instant later, found herself waiting upon the Seat of Sacrifice. A familiar tingling energy passed through her limbs.

Vanille froze, eyes fixed on the spot Fang's spear was pointing to. For a split second, there had been something, someone pale, pale as death, watching. Possibly the Wanderer she'd seen a while ago. Then there had been a spark; a dash of light, similar to that with which the Sylph warped around-even the memory made Vanille shiver-but tinged a cold blue. The blue of the Wanderer's lips.

"Spring the trap," Fang muttered to herself

"Huh?" Vanille squeaked, following the Gran Pulsian, moving again

"That moved like a Sylph. Might not be a Sylph waiting for us here, but whatever it is, it knows how to move like one. And the light was blue, like…" Fang paused.

A slender hand snaked down, clamping Vanille's waist. The redhead gave a flustered squeak. Fang gave a wink, brushed a tad lower with one finger, before lifting her hand up again, to a disappointed moan from Vanille. The elder woman now held the blue leaf.

_Here, Dear Ones._

The script had again changed. They shivered.

"The light was like this," Fang whispered, when she'd recovered from the surprise of the changed message.

"You two done flirting?" Dajh shouted, running up to them,

"Never," Vanille giggled

"Pity. Because I think we're there," the man gestured across the plains.

A fair distance away, the Seat of Sacrifice unmistakably stood. Unmistakeable, not because of its surroundings, but because, quiet simply, the circle of Cie'th Stones rested there: the monument in death as well as life.

Though they did not know this, it was in part due to the summoned Eidolon; the presence of whom was tied to death, and so made the worlds liable to merge on that point. Life and death, brought together for that one circle.

Tentative, the group moved closer to the grey stones. Fang, Vanille, Dajh, Cid, Bartholomew, Choco, Hecatoncheir, Bahamut, and the small Mist Dragon.

Once they were a few metres away, a sight was clearly visible in the centre of the ring. A gnome-like being, barely taller than a normal Sylph, pale as anything, even her eyes were milky. Yet her lips were shining with the vivid, unsettling azure.

Somehow, the being, the Wanderer made a motion to stand up, get up to her feet. As she did, the tiny figure was transformed to that of an agelessly young, beautiful woman, as tall as a human, skin still pale, lips still a navy cerulean. Eyes still made up of white on white.

Those soullessly kind eyes wandered to each of the arriving group. A smile warmed those blue lips, though while it was meant with kindness, it felt cold, unsettling, even terrifying.

"Welcome to my Holy Spot," the woman spoke, voice chiming like a rush of waves, yet as melancholy as the soft song of a nightingale.

The party was struck by the need to bow, to show some sort of respect, subservience, to the being before them. Most bowed their heads, though Fang and Vanille stayed firmly upright.

"I am the Goddess Etro," the divine Wanderer softly spoke once again, "And I request your aid."


	37. Death

**Well, after last chapter's surprising revelation at the end, there's not going to be much major coming up, right?  
****Wrong.  
Hee, anyway, Christmas Holidays are here again. So, as in need of a life as I am, that should mean more writing. When i'm not busy with setting other stuff up.  
Enjoy this chapter, in any case! **

In the centre of the stone circle atop the Seat of Sacrifice, the Goddess Etro stood. Patient, watchful, yet humble, incredibly so for the Goddess of Death.

"I am the Goddess Etro," the divinity spoke the words with a regal humility, not expecting worship or praise; "And I request your aid." She bore no difficulty in pronouncing the words.

Silence emanated for the moments after those blue lips said that sentence. Etro took a solitary step forwards, size diminishing until she was barely as tall as Fang. Still, her form looked similar; completely pale, even her eyes, save for her unnerving lips. Her body was garbed in a drape which appeared to be little more than crisp light beams, folded and weaved together.

"I ask you, dear ones," Etro's singing voice sounded upon realizing no one was quite brave enough to reply, "Aid I and those who dwell in this realm."

It took a little while until Vanille squeaked in reply.

"E-Etro," the redhead stuttered, "How can we help? I mean, you are supposed to be a Goddess, and…uh…"

Chiming laughter escaped the blue lips of Death.

"True, child, true," Etro spoke, "Though I too am bound by rules, constraints not of my own making. It is why my messengers are sent to your world; those who exist in the realm Beyond, yet desire to serve I. Should rules allow, I would journey to life, present faltered l'Cie with their choice in person. I may not interfere in that way however."

It was an unsettling revelation; that even a Goddess may find herself as much a victim as the others.

"What are we to do?" Bartholomew Estheim eventually croaked a question out, feeling somewhere between terrified and amazed that the amiable Wanderer he'd talked to in his centuries of imprisonment as the Sylph gate, was in fact the Goddess Etro.

"You know of storms?" Etro paused, receiving nods in response, more out of courtesy than necessity. "Storms exist here. The air currents swirl, hot air to rise, creating imbalance. Death is not an imbalance: previously, Death was constant throughout. I sustained my realm, utter perfection to live within. I have never experienced a storm before."

"It's because of us, isn't it," Vanille looked down, ashamed

"Don't put yourself down," nudging, Dajh looked at the Gran Pulsians, before eventually turning back to the beautiful Goddess who stood within the circle.

"I am sorry to say, it is so, dear one," Etro sounded reluctant to speak, "You do not belong here. Your arrival was not through loss of life, wit was through travel. _You are still alive_, and yet you wander Death freely. Imbalance is inevitable."

"Then bring them back to life!" Dajh half-shouted, tensing when he realized he was speaking to a divinity.

Etro was not angry however; if anything, she seemed upset, melancholy.

"Part of my binding is that I may not directly affect a person's status of life or death. I regulate the Door of Souls, and often, not even that. She has seen to that."

"She?" Fang rolled her eyes, "The Maker huh? She a pain here too?"

"If the Maker is how you know Her, yes. Though far be it from me to speak ill of Her, there is a time all children must gain independence. She does not know this: She refuses to know this. She reached forwards while fal'Cie reached outwards. I lay between them, and they pass straight through."

For the first time, Etro appeared irritated, if only mildly. It was unsettling to think the serene Goddess of Death could be at all annoyed. Unsettling…that word applied to a great deal. From those blue lips, to the rules of the Goddess, and now the Maker's trespassing. Things felt so much bigger than they could conceive, much less handle.

And yet, it somehow all centred on the living-and-dying Fang and Vanille.

Choco chirruped, ambling along between the group and the Goddess, breaking up the tension. Dajh softly whistled for the yellow bird to return, lightly stroking down the golden feathers of his neck.

"What should we do then?" Dajh's manner was much calmer now, hands lost in the messy feathers, "Resurrection was never taught to any of us."

"I am forbidden to help," Etro appeared to struggle for a moment, before speaking. Regret was clearly visible in her misty eyes.

"Tell us about Balduin," Fang was the first to cut through the silence, her demand muted from the aggressive tone she might use otherwise, out of homage to the divinity

"Balduin?" Etro's posture was stiff, unmoving, giving off no clues, "An interesting tale," her eyes locked with Fang's, "You expect aid here?"

Etro's eyes burned, whiteness within swirling in a greater, faster pattern, darkening. The shade of her skin too seemed to darken by a few almost imperceptible shades. Those signature blue lips remained parted, just a few degrees, but an oddity nonetheless: especially for the Goddess, who usually, after every word as much as sentence, clasped those lips tightly together.

Vanille frowned for a moment, nudging Fang. The redhead mouthed something, and the elder woman's eyes widened, suddenly nodding.

"Yeah," Fang turned again to Etro.

A smile graced those divine lips.

"Balduin lived two thousand years ago, and entered my realm at just twenty years of age," Etro paused, not for breath, but so the listeners could absorb the story. "He was a wise man; he was the father of many settlements, creator of many traditions, builder of the Temple to Hallowed Pulse: regarded by many as the most beautiful architecture even now, as it falls away. Indeed, even I must agree."

The Goddess paused for many longer seconds, lifting a lithe, pale arm, and moving it through the air. Like some immense blur, a screen, the same shade as her pale flesh, was formed upon it, images played out; a handsome man, staring. Laying on Gran Pulse land, breathing heavy, yet tranquil. A small dart of wood, barely half a centimetre wide, rested beside his neck, tip stained with blood.

The background of the man was taken by distortion, a white light, and eventually he lay there, no longer breathing, yet with bright, active eyes. Baldur; who else could it be? The myth still lay there, appearing superficially to be lifeless, and yet full of energy.

In a smooth transition, after just a few seconds, Baldur was striding forwards, confident, yet not egotistically so. The ground he moved on was moist, not with rain, but with tears, shed over him from life.

"And so, the world wept," Etro spoke again, voice not drawing them away from the visual, instead, enrapturing them further in the recorded story. "They desired life again be given to Baldur."

Etro continued to talk; explaining what had been done, the means, and the eventual result. All the while, Baldur's first time in death was displayed; wandering the empty plains, lost, alone, and yet still serene. His moments of anger and desperation were clouded over; his ingenuity and calmness took hold in their minds.

It seemed, for every great civilization, there was destined to be one great man or woman, some great figure who captured the hearts and minds of the world. For this ancient Gran Pulse, Baldur was that figure. For Cocoon, maybe, just maybe, there were six such people. Lightning, Snow, Sazh, Hope, Fang and Vanille. Those who saved the world.

"That's what we have to do then?" Vanille squeaked, once Etro had finished

"No," Etro slowly shook her head, "You may not achieve this from Death. Your friends in life however bear more of a chance."

"Lightning!" Fang noted.

The Goddess of Death gave one graceful, lonely nod.

"The rules restrain me greatly of what I may do to souls within my own realm," Etro soon continued, "To those in life, I am much more free."

"Do you know the layout of Death?" Etro created a new subject upon realizing no one else was willing to speak

"I told them a little," Bartholomew spoke up, "Well, what the W- what you told me in the gate."

"Indeed," Etro smiled graciously, "I will say it again, for an understanding is crucial for what else I must say."

With a wave, Etro erased the screen depicting Baldur, and drew another in the air, a semicircle of dulled, opaque light. A blue line, the same colour as her lips, sketched itself along the canvas.

"You reside on the outer layer. In your terms, Limbo serves as the best analogy," Etro's narration again made the outside world appear to fade, and the drawing dominate all. "A perfect replica of Gran Pulse, changing in the same natural way the land outside would, and with those structures built by the few who pass on to this place."

A blue, immensely detailed, stickman popped up on the light-board.

"When a soul arrives, rarely does it remain in Limbo. The soul passes through one of many other doors attached to the Door of Souls, it is these doors which take you to what you truly call the Afterlife. You wish me to say what occurs beyond them? I am afraid the rules also forbid that's, you shall have to wait until you pass beyond in your natural time. Suffice to say, of many gates, one specific Door bears concern for us."

Another circle was scratched in the cartoon-style display, blue as always. Within it, a pulsating, solid blue, ball rested.

"This is your Maker," Etro spoke with a concealed resentment, "She now resides in this Afterlife, one of Her choosing. The cries of Her children still reach her. They call Her back every second of every year, though in recent times these cries have been diminished, Her children are moving on: She knows this not, She is abandoned by knowledge of the world. Fragments beheld by souls stolen from I create Her entire perception. She wishes more than this: while the Door of Souls to life from Limbo is now sealed to the degree of what is natural, She is not satisfied. The walls which bind Her should keep Her there, if not for…"

Etro paused, subtly flicking two fingers by her side. A ripple passed through the sketchy blue lines, ground turning to a momentary zigzag, wall around the Maker becoming a blur, before returning to normal, a split second later. Storm clouds gathered in the cartoon sky.

"Us," Vanille squeaked

"Your task is incomplete," Etro's singing, chiming voice was pitying, "My souls returned from their half-life, out of Her control, and yet now She can directly influence beyond her shell. The disturbance you create by your living presence weakens all barriers. I know not how much longer it will be before She will once again walk."

Upon the screen, the circle around the Maker distorted for a moment, zigzagging, and snapped. The Maker's representation swelled, blue scribbles covering the whole, animated symbol, before the light winked out.

"For all Her divinity, She is but a child," Etro sounded despairing, "And yet burdened with the greatest responsibility of all. It is how the world works; power is given to those unable to comprehend. Seized by the illusion the whole world wishes Her to return, She does all She may."

Pity was resplendent in the Goddess' tone. The party watching her were too afraid to notice that detail however; the Maker again was their foe, and by simply being there, Fang and Vanille were hastening her return.

"We need to find Lightning," Dajh was the first level-headed enough to speak again, fingers still scratching the cawing Choco.

"Ah yes, your friend in life," Etro smiled, appearing to almost glimmer, "But I sense something in you, young one. Tell me, were you once l'Cie."

"Yes, uh-" Dajh paused, feeling some formal manner of address was needed, but being unable to think of one.

Etro gave a small chiming laugh.

"I felt so," Etro responded, "And yet your face is not familiar to me. Is it, then, you were never in need of one of my Messengers?"

"An Eidolon?" Dajh frowned, "No, I wasn't l'Cie long enough to get a chance."

"Well then," Etro clicked her fingers subtly, still by her side, "Allow me to give you a gift, small penance for what you have been through. May she help you in your journey."

Etro looked up to the sky. "_Kirin!_" while the word bore the emphasis of a shout, her voice was no louder than before.

Nothing came from the sky. Instead, a gold creature appeared from behind a Cie'th Stone, pacing quickly over to Dajh.

It was a feline of sorts: Kirin, as Etro named her. It came up to Dajh's waist; long, lithe, navy body stretching and nimbly peering around. She was mostly a darker shade of Etro's lips, though, instead of fur, a metallic gold covered the Eidolon; intricate carved gold around its centre, kind-of bracelets for all four of her legs, and an ornate mask was fitted over her head. Two emerald green eyes stared out, while the gold rose, like three feathers, above them.

Silent, as Eidolons often were, Kirin hopped over, around the space in front of Dajh, curling through the air without touching the floor. She rubbed her head against Dajh's palm; though it looked like the metal gold, and was unyielding, it felt soft as snow.

Choco cawed, feeling left out, but Kirin leapt over to the chocobo, appearing to prefer moving via jumping than walking. Choco gave a Kweh in contentment as Kirin scratched sits head, standing on her forelegs, and using a blunt, golden talon.

"My gift to you," Etro spoke, "Remember Balduin. Now, farewell."

Etro's haunting blue lips gave a small smile, while the Cie'th Stones at the Seat of sacrifice each lashed, illuminated for a brief split second. As the light faded, the Goddess too had left them.

Kirin, Hecatoncheir, Bahamut and Mist Dragon: four Eidolons for Dajh, Vanille, fang and Cid. Bartholomew was the only non-l'Cie among them; Choco appeared to notice this, ambling over to Hope's father, cawing.

"Ok, I have to ask," Dajh eventually muttered, first to speak since Etro's departure. His hand was held in Kirin's dextrous paw. "Why'd you mumble to each other back then, Fang?" he looked at the two Gran Pulsian

"When?" Fang frowned

"Then!" Vanille giggled, "Did you hear the Goddess? 'You expect aid here'? It sounded stupid!"

"Oh, then," Fang nodded, "She did everything she could to put emphasis on it, and it was obvious."

"Acronym," Dajh murmured, suddenly understanding, "Only one that makes sense. 'Yeah'."

"Exactly," Vanille squeaked, "For all those party-pooping rules, she said one thing: Baldur was the right choice. If we can do what they did for him, then we can get things to work."

X

The Sylph was recovering; Hope could easily see that. He could pass as human now, if not for his abnormally pale skin, and hair the same tinged green as Sylph fingers. It was like someone had simply discoloured a human; in terms of shape and everything, the Sylph was a man. As such, he had begun to wear things; mostly a few PSICOM bits-and-bobs outfits they'd found, preserved in chambers and crystals.

Almost all his Sylph magic had gone. Though Rhoswen didn't know; how would she react to knowing her 'friends' were locked in crystal? Then again, Hope suspected, though he hadn't asked, that Rhoswen no longer cared about them, with her memories reforming. They were the PSICOM who'd pursued and tried to kill her, ever since she'd betrayed them.

The Sylph was remembering a little more, possible Sylph hive memories, possibly otherwise. There was no way to tell. He still didn't know who he was, but he was repelled by Rhoswen, the Sylph could rarely be seen with the PSICOM-survivor-and-betrayer.

Hope walked down the aisles between the eerie, crystalline, frozen faces, just behind Rhoswen. Since the blue lights had momentarily appeared, a day or so ago, Rhoswen's memories had returned somewhat; she had flashes of her past life, and sometimes recognized a few faces.

"I know her," she suddenly stopped, pointing to a crystal figure, a frozen PSICOM, glaring with soulless eyes at the Sylph of centuries past

"You do?" Hope stopped, frowning

"Yeah," Rhoswen nodded, "Saved my life. Vallis Media, tripped up, almost went tumbling down. She pulled me back up."

"Sounds nice,"

"She wasn't," Rhoswen chuckled peals of laughter, "But she was good in a team."

Silence.

"Want to start heading back? See if Sylph has found anything with all his sorting through of the systems." Hope shrugged, uneasy with the Cie'th constantly lurching around him, even if they weren't aggressive.

"Why not?" Rhoswen appeared more cheerful after revealing her secret. Betraying PSICOM: a brave thing to do in any circumstance.

A loud echo, a thud, passed through the titanic chamber. The duo looked around, confused. A few seconds later, the ceiling far, far above them lit up brightly. Hope and Rhoswen looked down, shielding their eyes; for the length of time they'd spent on the mostly unlit Cocoon, the light bulbs were akin to staring directly at the Sun, if not some thing brighter. Almost painful. It took a little while for their eyes to stop watering, and a little longer until they'd adapted long enough to move their arms from their eyes, even if they could still only look down at the floor, with a squint.

"Looks like someone found the light switch," Hope muttered

"Probably that sick Sylph of yours."

"Sick?"

"Yeah, you know, ill. Look at him; looks nothing like a Sylph."

Hope grunted, nodding, irritated by the almost blinding light. He edged his eyes open a little further, feeling them begin to water again. A few seconds more, and he squinted again, looking forwards, trying to be more on guard in the Cie'th filled hive.

Those ex-l'Cie were also wilting under the newfound brilliant light, most flailing, some fallen, covering their red eyes.

The sound of static filled their ears.

"I've got some of the mechanics figured out. Please could you two return to the entrance."

It was the Sylph; somehow, not only had it succeeded in turning the lights on, but now it had the speaker system working. That was clever. Maybe it had been here before, in its past life. That would explain its (or his, judging by the voice) inherent use of the systems.

A few minutes later, Hope and Rhoswen reached the small, automatic gate; the only entrance and exit to and from the huge crystal holding area. Hope stepped through and, seconds later, it slammed shut.

Rhoswen was still on the other side.

"Hey, Sylph?" Hope called, trying to find the route it had taken to control all this stuff, "Rhoswen's still in there, open the door!"

"No," the answering voice was muted, little more than a whisper, yet carried from the unknown location via speaker.

Hope frowned, eyes widening.

"Rhoswen!" the voice came out of the speaker, a half-mad shout. "I do not remember much, but now, I remember enough. You were PSICOM. You killed with all of them-"

"No!" Hope heard her voice, muffled, shout back, "It wasn't like that, I-"

"I should not have freed you from crystal," the Sylph continued speaking. Maybe it was ignoring Rhoswen's protests, or maybe it simply couldn't hear her. "Nonetheless, now you are free: once of PSICOM."

Hope heard Rhoswen banging on the gate, instinctively afraid. Maybe the Cie'th were being drawn to the commotion: Hope had no way to see. Or maybe the prospect of the Sylph having so much control over that area was just terrifying.

"You were with PSICOM Rhoswen. But don't forget," the Sylph paused, "_So was I_."

Rhoswen's frantic clanging froze, as did Hope.

"I remember your betrayal," the Sylph continued, "Every detail of it. Should a traitor be allowed to live when so many others died? But now I remember: you were pathetic. PSICOM, was pathetic. You did nothing, you squabbled for too long, and did nothing. The only one who ever did something- well, you left me to die! And in the end, I did die."

A loud tremor passed through the floor, Hope looked down, pressing his hands against the gate to keep his balance as the tremors ran through the ground.

"I was captured and killed for doing what PSICOM should have been," the Sylph continued to speak, to shout, "I have no patience with them. But you Rhoswen! You even betrayed them! PSICOM were and are the only ones who had any standards, who remained loyal to our True Home. Cocoon."

A pause, Rhoswen slamming against the gate again as the tremors ceased.

"Enjoy the dark," the Sylph gave the savage whisper, before the speakers cut off.

"Rhoswen?" Hope muttered, pressing himself against the gate, "What's he done?"

"Nothing," he heard her muffled voice come back, then, after a moment, "I think. He's turned the lights off, I can't see a thing. Wait a sec," there was a flick, "l'Cie magic. Nothing looks different."

Just then, hope span around; there was a noise. Footsteps. The human-sized Sylph stepped down the steps, garbed in PSICOM armour: it fitted him eerily well, though that could simply be Hope's preconceptions playing up. No helmet was worn, so Hope could see the unnaturally smooth Sylph skin where his hair should be.

The gate clicked open.

Hope turned around, to see Rhoswen illuminated only by a magical flame. She glared across the room at the silent, impassive Sylph.

The Sylph made the first move. He lifted both arms, into an X shape, and brought them down with similar strength, in the space of a second. Hope could feel the magic in the blow, but judging by the look of the Sylph, it was also obvious: it could well be the last spell the transforming Sylph would be able to cast.

Rhoswen was flung back, unable to react, and as Hope watched, events unfolded, too quickly to prevent. Laying on her back, staring up, Rhoswen was the first to see the other effects of the spell.

Rocks and metal were falling. Huge chunks of the ceiling in the crystal chamber descended, a huge mass, a blanket of such incredible weight. The first fell near Rhoswen; clipping straight through an ancient crystal figure. Rhoswen's eyes widened, as another piece fell, obscuring her from view.

The deadly rain continued. An agonizing scream, and silence, terrifying seconds apart. And in little more than the seconds it took for the scream to silence, the gate was rendered unnecessary. The chamber's roof had fallen, stone and metal, shattering the age-old crystals, and claiming the life of Rhoswen.

Hope looked back at the 'Sylph', who was already turning to walk away.

The shocks were not over.

For, since casting that spell, the last of the Sylph hold over his appearance had faded. And for the brief glimpse Hope had, he could identify the man. The one figure he could never forget.

That was the face of Halyard Lee Wevos.

The man who had killed his father.


	38. Balduin

**Here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy! The word document for this is over 200 pages long.  
I am trying to add some Fanille fluff in soon, I promise! Story is propelling itself along, and it needs a break. luckily, the story plan should allow for that next chapter. Until then though, have this, and Merry Christmas!  
I've also got a Christmas oneshot for Final Fantasy XIII coming up, which isn't my best, but you might want to check it. Should be going online on the day.  
Back on topic of this one, enjoy! **

It was the first of many; beheld by none, and yet still, its presence may well shape the future of the world. A tiny little thing, a glimmer. Yet enough to strike fear into many hearts.

The glimmer of Maker-Light rose onwards, further up through the realm of Etro.

Far, far below, Dajh, Kirin, Choco, Cid, the Mist Dragon, Bartholomew Estheim, Hecatoncheir, Bahamut, Fang and Vanille wandered across the landscape.

Kirin, the new, golden Eidolon, seemed to enjoy the new company. She enjoyed skipping along the land, occasionally peering back with her ornate face, silent, yet acting as if purring.

As the party trekked on, to the rough area of Lightning's house out of hope that the weakening boundaries between life and death caused by Fang and Vanille would allow them to speak, tell of Balduin, Kirin stayed a few paces ahead, always, running in circles, skipping forwards, and then running in more circles. She seemed to enjoy the futility.

The group didn't pay much attention to the waist-high, yet almost childish, Eidolon's antics, instead discussing among themselves, thinking and plotting, and even gossiping. The similarities between this Limbo and life made things easier to comprehend, just about, easier to understand, think about, and live through. There was little tension from simply being there, and no fear of the deathly landscape surrounding them, as by rights there should be. Things seemed tranquil more than anything. Especially now, after meeting its Goddess.

Though Etro had long since left, it was hard to believe she had gone completely. She was the Goddess of this realm after all, chances are she could watch them somehow, maybe she was watching from the Eidolons, or maybe the Eidolons were talking to her. They were supposed to be her messengers after all.

As they walked on, another spark of light gently twinkled, from a distance. Pure white, with the texture of crystal. It hovered where it appeared, oddly no longer ascending. Conscious.

The Sylph were there for exploration into life, for that was another world, and true, they were greater at manipulation. But for this realm, she was simply reaching through a door, a door long since slammed shut, but a door nonetheless. And so She had greater control, and so She could see.

The Maker beheld with fury. Red and black. Red hair and black hair; two Gran Pulsians, among the two longest lived beings She had known.

Once they had called Her. Twice they had fought her. The first Ragnarok brought Her closer, while the second did also, but prevented the final summoning. And the third time, the most recent, they had been at their most infuriating, using their physical bodies as a barrier. It should not have prevented Her, but she was using the Sylph as a vessel.

And now they were here, having fallen through when restraining Her? The Maker hoped so, some penance at long last.

But still, fury burned. She was not afraid, no, She was incapable of that, merely irritated. But for Her, even the slightest irritation was akin to the greatest rage.

She would remember them.

A pale blue light formed near the Maker-glimmer. For a few seconds, they watched the Chosen together. Then the blue light spoke with Etro's voice.

"I may not harm you, nor may you harm I." it sounded as melodic as always, "The rules still apply. They shall always. You use tools and I speak to friends, the way things have always been. You should not have banished yourself, for this is my land, you do not have the reign you bore over Life here. It is too late for regret. Your theft of my souls has pitted you against I, though I am sad to say it. May you not simply bid your creations farewell?"

Etro's impassioned plea drew to a close. A lone word pulsed out from the light, not in sound, but in thought; the essence of the word itself.

_Begone._

The meaning was so much more than the word suggested; it was a command, it was a shout, but it was also a threat. I have made my choice. Let things play out to their natural end. I know what consequences we may face, but I shall continue regardless. Leave now. I know the rules, but if pushed, I may disobey.

Both lights were extinguished in the same breath.

Far, far ahead, Vanille was dropping back a little way, shaking her head as Fang made to follow. Frowning, the elder woman obeyed.

The Eidolons walked in a circle around the group, Kirin sat the front, the Mist Dragon above, and the other two either side. Vanille dropped back behind the whole group, cautious, but also curious.

Silently, she removed a small, blue leaf from her pocket.

_Speak_.

The one word was written on the striking flora. The redhead frowned, before holding it close to her lips, and whispering. "Can you hear me?"

_I do._

She didn't see the script change, but instead, as she moved the leaf away from her mouth, it was as if the text had always been those two words.

Shivering, Vanille spoke again. "I don't know if the others remember, but I do. The legends of Oerba weren't just about Hallowed Pulse and you."

She took the leaf away, but the text was still the same. Vanille blinked, and the text seemed to flicker, as if Etro was indecisive, pausing. Eventually, legible script appeared.

_You speak of Lindzei._

"Yes," Vanille squeaked, unintentionally loud. The others looked back at her. She giggled. A moment later, she looked back down at the leaf.

_It is not a good topic._

The leaf flickered again as Vanille watched, feeling her hands grow cold from where they held the leaf.

_The viper, the serpent, Succubus, Accursed One, the demon._

One term appeared at a time, each a blink apart. Eventually, Etro began to speak properly, her words forming on the leaf.

_Fell Lindzei was locked away._

Blink.

_Deeper than any other. _

Blink.

_There is little risk of His return._

Blink.

_For all Her faults, your Maker has one shared trait_

Blink.

_With all. Hatred of Him. _

The leaf flickered indecisively, before eventually settling on a phrase.

_Until Death itself falls, He is banished._

Vanille shuddered, partly from the darkness she felt from the leaf, and partly from the cold. Even the name Lindzei felt cold when written on Etro's leaf.

A moment of silence, before Vanille felt able to speak. "But we're…" she paused, "Fang and I," she spoke as quietly as possible, "We're disturbing the balance of death."

A few more seconds gradually ticked past. It seemed as if the leaf would not change; and Vanille almost pocketed it again, her hands paler, almost frozen. Until the maternal script flickered and, after several long seconds, reformed into a chilling declaration.

_|I'm sorry._

Shaking, Vanille put the leaf quickly into her pouch. Maybe curiosity could do more harm than good; while it was nice to know, the very thought of Lindzei filled her with dread. All the children of Gran Pulse were filled with horror stories of the demon, He who formed the nest of vipers, who lurked the night. While most of them were probably just to control the undisciplined, such fear never could fade.

Trying her best to continue as normal, Vanille skipped forwards, grinning shakily, linking arms with Fang.

Lindzei was still on her mind. Fear. But it wouldn't leech all joy from her life.

While the redhead's thoughts descended into chaos, Kirin hopped mildly further ahead, Eidolon bestowed directly by Etro sniffing the air, thinking. It could sense much, not only from death. The borders between life and this realm were frail indeed; she could sense huge gatherings of life, real life, and buildings, constructions.

The gold mask around the feline's face shimmered somewhat as she closed her eyes. The mask could guide her, while she concentrated on scent.

To her, scent was more than just basic smell, magic bore its own scent too, echoes of power. And with the right focus, I could be picked up. Kirin had that focus. There was a common tang to each of those she travelled with now; save the Eidolons and Bartholomew. It was either the scent of l'Cie or the scent of crystal, Kirin was unsure.

The same scent was duplicated many times in the world beyond the border. The living l'Cie and once-crystals.

The target range had been narrowed down; they needed to find the Gran Pulsians' friends, those that still lived. It did not matter which one, so long as they were near a thin border. They had to speak. Fang and Vanille knew the one myth which could resurrect them: the tale of Balduin.

There was another scent, especially focused on Cid and Dajh, but present on all of them. A repulsive burst of sensation, like pepper. Similar spikes of it covered death, and yet there was a similar edge to the air itself. The smell of the Maker, of the Sylph. With a little effort, Kirin again parted the frail curtain to life, hoping the l'Cie she had to find would bear the scent of who they fought. It was only logical: had Sylph warped them? Had the Maker touched them at a confrontation?

Kirin hoped so, and was rewarded as several beings stood out. Still a dozen or so though, and no way to tell which was which.

Kirin again paused, picking out anything memorable on the two Gran Pulsians. There was an irony tint, more a faint, actual scent than a magical sense, a bit of both technically, but, ingrained deep in their skin, that industrial smell pervaded. Kirin bristled. While she did not recognize it, it was easy to identify; corruption. The scent of Cocoon. The taint of Fell Lindzei.

And yet, the smell was in the air around them, unbelievably faint, and yet still there.

Hissing, Kirin again delved beyond the thin walls of life and death. It scared her, how easy it was.

Outside of the stinking nest itself, and the two pieces of life within it, only eight bore that scent. Eight beings who had once trodden on Cocoon: all once l'Cie, all having touched Sylph.

The scent of fal'Cie resided near one of the eight. Interesting: and that one was close also. Perhaps it would do o harm to indulge a feeble curiosity while continuing the quest; just a small wonder. Why a fal'Cie?

Kirin opened her eyes, willing her golden mask to flash a sudden, bright flare. All eyes were soon on her.

The Eidolon lifted a metallic paw, gesturing towards where she sensed the fal'Cie and Cocoon-dweller. She was met with frowns. Inwardly, Kirin yowled in annoyance: she was unable to make any meaningful noise even audible to these people. How was she to talk?

_The leaf, dear one. _

Etro's kindly voice sounded in her head. The Eidolon paused, flicking through its memory, before running along the ground and pouncing on the pale Vanille. Fang made a sudden move, but Kirin had finished her work too soon to be hit by the sudden attack.

"Kirin!" she heard her caller, Dajh, shout, "Stop!"

Obeying, the Eidolon drooped her head, leaf in one paw, and, shamefacedly, walked over to Dajh. She lifted the leaf, willing him to understand.

"I know where to go," Dajh said after a moment's pause

"Huh? Where?" Fang demanded, stepping forwards

"I don't know," Dajh looked up, "Kirin's got some leaf. That's what it says."

"Right," Vanille squeaked, "Etro's! What's it say?"

"I can scent, can see, the once l'Cie, "Dajh read out Kirin's thoughts, "Follow me."  
The party looked at the bluish Eidolon, surprised.

Satisfied they were at last understanding her, Kirin, stretched her long, lithe leg, flicked the leaf up to Dajh, before gratefully bounding along the landscape. Towards the Cocoon dweller and the fal'Cie.

X

"I don't see why we have to go to Faris," Lightning sighed, "What doe sit have to do with Fang and Vanille? We don't know anything more to tell them, and that's if they're even there."

"They will be there, I know," Shemhazai spoke in her customary whispers, easily audible, "We fal'Cie are partial to certain signals humans may miss."

"Such as?"

"The cry of a Goddess. I scarcely believe it, but I not only sensed Her, our Maker, but the Goddess Etro."  
"And this means we go to Faris, why?"

"There was a sense of happiness from the Goddess of Death. All fal'Cie may have picked it up; but I was looking for something they were not. I believe the Goddess is aiding Fang and Vanille."

"And you sensed them coming from Faris."

"It is true," Shemhazai bowed her head.

"Lead on," Lightning stepped back, shrugging.  
Faris was the name given to a wasteland just outside the city; it had been a village once, Lightning remembered, but fell into disuse after a plague. So much of the world had changed from one crystal slumber to the next, Lightning sighed wistfully. Faris had been a great village; not simply a dwelling place though. As it was built on the outskirts of a main city, a fair few soldiers gathered there. Needless to say, Lightning had gotten on well with them, in her few and far-between breaks, at insistence from a friend, usually Serah, often, from helping Fang and Vanille over the last five centuries.

Now it was a wasteland, rubble, wreckage and memories. Maybe it would do her good to see it again; especially if Fang and Vanille were there.

Though she didn't show it, she had a sentimental side. Even with nothing to report, inside she rejoiced at seeing her two old friends again. How long had it been since their journey to Cocoon? The day the Sylph fled. At least a week ago, probably longer.

She'd seen them a day ago, but that was as if they were simply on a screen, recorded, unreal. Even if she was only seeing them the same way again, it would be better than nothing. Who knew how much longer they could speak for?

"How much do you know of this world's history?" Shemhazai murmured after a moment

"A little. I lived through a lot of it."  
"You misunderstand. The history of the world, and not its peoples."

"In that case, not much. I spent most of my time thinking about the future and how to help Fang and Vanille, not the lost past."

"It was not a criticism, merely a curiosity," Shemhazai paused, wing fluttering from within her cloak.

Lightning was glad no one was around here; there wasn't much call to use the road to Faris. The movement of wings would attract unwanted attention.

"Why?" the soldier eventually prodded, wondering

"Something I felt. The tales of the fal'Cie speak of beings made from matter and magic who existed long before anything else."

"What do they have to do with this?" Lightning rolled her eyes at the irrelevant subject matter

"We are being watched,"

"Huh?" Lightning's hand wandered down to her weapon

"By one of those creatures," Shemhazai spoke again, "I do not understand how, but they have a very distinctive presence."

"Why don't you understand how?" Lightning demanded, tense, as they continued moving

"There were few in the world when fal'Cie first arose. They departed us for life beyond, centuries ago."

"Evidently not all of them," Lightning groaned, "Any tips outside of how it's 'impossible'?"

"I recognize the type. One said to have unparalleled sense, to find people and objects by scent and echoes. It is called a Kirin."

"Kirin?" Lightning frowned, "Why does that sound familiar?"

A few silent seconds ticked past.

In the years between the Fall and the Extraction, Lightning had buried herself in the ancient culture of Gran Pulse. She arguably knew more of the world's history than any other; that is, the history of the people, myths and legends. Though only the legends written down, which tended to be the very old stories, long before the Cocoon/Pulse wars, featuring l'Cie more than anything.

The name Kirin was in one of those tales, she was sure of it. A feline, gold and blue. Something to do with a l'Cie…

"Eidolon," Lightning breathed

"Excuse me?" Shemhazai frowned, looking back

"Kirin was an Eidolon," the pink haired soldier repeated, recalling the legend, "Maybe that race did die; whatever. If they ever existed. But Kirin was an Eidolon on the ancient Pulse."

"An Eidolon is watching us then," Shemhazai amended slowly.

"And where there's an Eidolon, there's a l'Cie."

"So l'Cie are searching for us," Shemhazai's wing fluttered suddenly once more, and a flash of energy travelled down her cheek, "It can only be them."

Lightning nodded grimly. Perhaps she would in fact meet Fang and Vanille once more. The soldier smiled.

A few more minutes ticked past, and as they finally fell away, Lightning and Shemhazai were in Faris. There were no standing houses, no real dwellings, just holes and piles of rubble. Time killed everything.

Waiting, Lightning sat on one of the stones, closing her eyes. Fang and Vanille could catch up soon then, especially if they did have a Kirin somehow guiding them. Had Dajh or Cid somehow received an Eidolon? She didn't even entertain the chilling notions that there could be another l'Cie searching.

"Lightning!" Vanille's squeal brought the hooded soldier back to reality. Relieved, she lowered her hood, exposing pinkish locks to the air, and moved closer to the small bubble in which they were visible.

Fang, Vanille, Bahamut, Hecatoncheir, Cid, Dajh and Bartholomew were recognizable. A wave of mist with two bright blue eyes was behind them, and a waist-high feline sat in front. The latter matched the faded illustrations of Kirin.

"Who are the new arrivals?" Lightning asked, just to be sure

"My Eidolon," Cid was the first to speak, lifting an arm. Mist from their background flowed into it, forming an icy, serpentine face. "We call her Mist Dragon after the old fables."

"And I finally got mine!" Dajh grinned, "Kirin!"

The Eidolon hopped up, hearing her name called. So it was true.

"You wouldn't believe how I met her," Dajh chuckled

"Really?" Lightning replied, amused, "How then?"

"That's kinda why we need to talk," Vanille squeaked.

Lightning raised her eyebrows, before nodding, gesturing for them to go on. Shemhazai listened, hiding behind the rubble; almost afraid of meeting those she'd wronged long ago.

"Bartholomew met a Wanderer while serving as a gate," Fang explained the background, "We were searching for her, only thing we could think of doing. Met her at that ring of Cie'th Stones in the Steppe; turns out they're some kind of sacred spot for Etro. That's who she was: the Wanderer was Goddess Etro."

Lighting blinked.

"You know, I bet she made this bubble so we can talk," Vanille mumbled to herself.

"She wants to help," Cid spoke now, breaking the dramatic silence, "Even Gods have rules they must abide by, however, but she did give us one gift. Dajh's Eidolon, Kirin."

"And she told us about Balduin!" Vanille hopped, squeaking, interrupting Cid.

"Go on," Lightning was suddenly alert; she, Shemhazai, Snow, Serah, NORA and Sazh had been going from ghost to ghost, and yet none knew much of the myth.

"You know the basics," Fang replied, "Balduin died, but he was popular, and lots of people tried to save him. According to the Goddess, most of the rest was just poetic license, but you don't know that bit, so might as well say it."

Fang inhaled.

"The tribe and surrounding areas were all distraught at Balduin's death, and even Etro was moved by it. She appeared to them, and said if every one in the whole world shed a tear for Balduin, she could bring him back to life. Well, in good old Gran Pulsian spirit, those people set sail for the rest of the world, telling people about Balduin and their task. Everyone cried for him in the end, except for one person; Lindzei, and so Balduin stayed dead."

"But that's not how it really happened," Vanille interjected, "That's just the legend."

"What was it then?" Lightning murmured, tense, curious.

"Balduin died, that much is true," the redhead continued, "But Etro never appeared. Lots of people called for her, to help Balduin. And with enough voices, she did, for a little while. But she broke the rules, at the command of lots of people, but she still broke the rules, and the world suffered." Vanille shivered

"Nothing had any meaning for the longest day," Fang was the next to speak, "That's what they called it. The face of the world changed; reality itself was off balance. Lindzei and the Maker were free from their incarceration, if only for that one day. A person could find themselves in pain or pleasure, superlatives, for no reason at all. All until Etro reclaimed Balduin and took him beyond the Door of Souls again."

"Of course people were upset," Vanille squeaked, "But they didn't want to remember it, `cos they'd been the ones who told Etro to do it. Their folly. So they made up the myth; but we think Etro could get it to work this time, we're not properly dead."

"You're not?" Lightning said after a few seconds, thinking of Balduin

"Nah," Vanille shook her head cheerfully, "We slipped in through the Door, we're still alive, just in the wrong place. The Goddess said so."

"A geographic demise, not a physical one," Cid murmured

A moment's silence. Shemhazai watched from afar.

"You think, if enough people want it, Etro will bring you back to life?" Lightning paused, frowning. It sounded odd, but stranger things had happened.

"The added weight of the voices must do something," Fang shrugged, "It's our best shot."

The Mist Dragon at the back shifted, possibly nodding, possibly not. It was hard to tell.

"Who's the one watching us?" Bartholomew quietly whispered, just as everyone was preparing to say farewell. They stopped, looking at Hope's father.

"Over there," he pointed past Lightning, to a small pile of rubble.

Behind the rubble, a tall pile which had possibly once been a house, the edges of a cloak, and a silvery face beneath it, were visible. Hearing the words, it ducked lower, but the damage had been done. Lightning closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Shemhazai!" she shouted, "Might as well do this."

The party in death looked at each other, confused, before the cloaked figure slowly stepped out, into clear view. She moved closer, a slow, shuffling step. It might have been their imagination, but the group thought they heard a steady clip-clop of hooves.

Once she was near, the figure, now named as Shemhazai, lifted a concealed hand, and pulled her hood back. The inhuman, smooth, mechanical, metallic face was now visible, sunlight glinting off the brown and grey shades.

"That's a fal'Cie," Dajh muttered

Shemhazai nodded once, slowly, before leaning back. The cloak gracefully fell off, and as she straightened again, she seemed slightly taller. Her feathered wings extended either side of her body.

"We know you," Vanille gasped.

The fal'Cie bowed her head. "I am most sorry," her loud, whispered tone carried genuine regret.

"You know it?" Dajh spoke quickly, shocked

"I think we do," Fang was the next to speak, her tone cold

"Will you allow me to redeem myself?" Shemhazai whispered, "I wish only to help you. I knew not who you were at the time we first met."

"Who is this?" Dajh frowned

"Fal'Cie," Fang muttered, "Attacked us first time we left Oerba."

"She sounds sorry!" Vanille squeaked

"I am, truly," the fal'Cie lowered her head.

A few seconds of silence. Lightning's gaze wandered around Faris, paying little attention to the drama at hand. How could she spread the word about Fang and Vanille, as the story of Balduin suggested? One idea kept returning to her mind, but it was a thought she might not be able to go through with. It wasn't just her choice.

"Alright, why not," Fang shrugged, "Welcome to the team Shemhazai."

"The utterly doomed team," Cid added dryly, receiving an elbow from Vanille in reply.

"Good luck," the gracious, now accepted, fal'Cie whispered.


	39. Severance

**Eesh, the start of this chapter is a lot darker than I intended it. Oh well, it's written.  
A word of warning: Hope will be a dark character in this bit. For me, that's not terribly OoC, considering who he's recently found out about.  
But cheer up! Updates should be coming a bit quicker (I'm not writing much else, only reading every single book I got for Christmas. Which is a lot) and there should be a dash more Fanille in upcoming chapters.  
Until then though, please review, but most importantly: enjoy! **

Hope sat against the bronze wall of the passageway. To his right, stone and crystal fragments rested. Somewhere in there, Rhoswen rested. If she was even recognizable any more. The Sylph had killed her.

No, not the Sylph. He could say that now; the traces of Sylph had left him, even if his memories hadn't returned. The man.

Halyard Lee Wevos.

Hope hated Halyard more than any other person alive. Halyard, PSICOM remnant who had taken the life of Bartholomew Estheim.

The angry thought caused a kind of epiphany in the silver haired man, but one that stuck: centuries of grudge had worn away an impulsive dislike. Earlier, he blamed Fang and Vanille for the loss of his father. But now he knew, it wasn't their fault. The fault belonged to Halyard, who had stolen his life, so long ago.

Halyard. The name flickered in his head.

Even if he hadn't meant it, that man was responsible for all of this. The death which was caught in the Door of Souls, how his father had been forced to endure centuries as the gate between life and death.

Halyard's fault.

But what could Hope do? He was just one person, alone, weak, not even a l'Cie. Then again, he thought, now, what was Halyard? He was not the figure of nightmare he had once been. He was a weakened man, few memories, no magic, and struggling from his Sylph recovery.

He didn't know who Hope was. But Hope knew who he was. That gave Hope an advantage.

It scared him how he was thinking; in points. Plus one for knowledge, minus one for not being PSICOM. As if he was keeping score, a loss or a victory, with stakes higher than any game.

His hand bunched into a fist.

Breathing heavily, the ex-l'Cie got to his feet. Time to stop thinking about it.

His parents were the most precious thing in the world, to him. Arguably more so than his girlfriend, Asura. While he loved her, he loved his parents also, in a different way, but no less strongly. When he'd lost his mother, it was common knowledge how he'd run after Snow: and upon the loss of his father, he'd happily surrendered to crystal oblivion. His father's second death had made him turn against some of his closest friends; Fang and Vanille.

He knew that was wrong, now. Halyard was here; having escaped death itself. As if some hand had moved him near the portal, and he'd gone through; to make Hope forgive the Gran Pulsians.

Hope slowly turned, to walk out of the PSICOM base. He had to stop thinking; he'd done that before, his mistaken grudge against Snow, and he'd refused to do anything for so, so long. In that case, there may have been a good side to it. But not now: Halyard was unquestionably guilty.

"Hope!" the voice that shouted was now chillingly familiar. He recognized the tone, the pitch, the sound; all from shouts directed against the government of so long ago.

Hope turned, trying to control his breathing as the despised man ran into view.

"Tell me you do not blame me," Halyard's eyes were focused on Hope, "I remember little, and that which I do overwhelms."

"Do you regret it?" Hope asked, half-afraid of the answer. His voice was cold; he hoped Halyard couldn't hear that.

A pause. Hope looked Halyard up and down, recognizing every detail, kicking himself he hadn't recognized him from the traces of similarity when he was still a Sylph.

The leaf-like limbs had turned to small muscle, frayed ends to strong hands. The pale tinge of Sylph flesh was now a darkened tan, from so many years ago, when skin used to the dull light of Cocoon was exposed, unprepared, to the harsh Sun of Pulse. And his body had grown, even as he cast the spell to take Rhoswen's life, to just above Hope's adult height. The most striking change however, was the mottled, lime patch atop the Sylph's head; now short, very short, black hair.

The transformation may have been incomplete; a few more centimetres to grow, green tint in the hands to be lost, and memories to be regained. But all in all, the resemblance was terrifying.

"Well," Hope demanded, "Do you regret it?"

Another pause, Halyard stretching his fingers, and cracking his knuckles by his side.

"No," Halyard exhaled, stretching his neck.

"You wouldn't," Hope murmured, little more than a whisper to himself. The ex-PSICOM just steps away didn't hear.

"You do not know here as I do," Halyard Lee Wevos continued to speak, "As far in the future as you say, you would not even know of PSICOM."

Without even a goodbye, the killer walked away. Hope's burning eyes watched him depart.

And he wasn't even sorry. Rhoswen had been killed. He'd even killed the rest of his PSICOM allies simply because he couldn't be bothered to help them. Even that action of his, which could easily be beneficial, Hope's mind contorted to something shameful.

"I'm sorry Fang, Vanille," Hope whispered to himself.

And he meant it. They wouldn't hear him, but it gave him some comfort to know that the words were on the air. He was wrong to blame them: it was because of Halyard that his father had died. The Gran Pulsians had simply freed him, and stopped the Sylph.

Which left Hope with one last aim. Revenge.

Panting, the silver haired man waited a few seconds, before starting after the ex-PSICOM. Two steps later, he stopped; he wasn't thinking. He needed to think, not just run after his father's murderer.

Moving at a run now, he re-entered the winding tunnel which lead to the caved-in chamber. It was PSICOM: there had to be weapons somewhere.

His thoughts continued running along this dark path, as he felt for any hidden routes, like the one Sylph-Halyard had taken to control the base. He thought out hundreds, if not more, of ways to gain retribution, with and without weapons.

Perhaps it was Cocoon: the lack of people, and the lack of culture in the wreckage, was making him savage.

He felt savage. And for Halyard Lee Wevos, he didn't care.

Click. The wall ahead of him shuffled to the side, as a control, hidden by the dark and centuries of dust, was activated by his wandering hand. Grin. Hope entered the pitch black room, squinting as lights were turned on by his presence.

Lightning's lessons, just after the Fall, were useful after all. PSICOM bases ran under the same, basic structure; even when everything was a different shape, the weapons compartment was in the same place, in relation to the grand hall: which had to be where Rhoswen had died.

The lessons were correct. Weapons were here. Most of them probably wouldn't work though; five centuries. And he didn't need anything major, only one small thing to satisfy a burning hatred.

He chose a small gun; one that didn't appear rusted. He fired one shot; success. Grimly smiling, he checked the chamber inside it; it still had another bullet in.

He wasn't a great fan of the gun, but the irony appealed to him. This was the same make of weapon Halyard used. Good quality, and probably due to the stagnant conditions of Cocoon, and possibly the meddling of the Sylph, it worked.

Fury was too mild a word for what he felt now.

Minutes later, he was at the house where he'd spent his first, frozen night on Cocoon. The door was open, and he could see Halyard's form; slightly taller, but still a dash too short for when he was human.

"Hello Hope," the killer's voice drifted out from within the house.

"Hi," Hope cursed, hiding the weapon. "Just wanted to drop in."

"You forgive me then?" Halyard didn't sound like he cared either way

"No," Hope was going to lie, but he stopped himself at the last moment

"Fair enough," Halyard laughed.

Hope's hands trembled with rage. First, Bartholomew Estheim had died. Then Rhoswen; and now, he laughed?

"You remember anything else?" Hope struggled to keep his voice level as he entered the room

"A little," Halyard was lying on his back, as if sleeping, casual, "My name. Halyard, Halyard Lee Wevos."

"I think I've heard of you," Hope lifted the gun, unable to keep the tremor out of his hands or his voice.

"Nice to know I'm famous this many years ahead," Halyard sat up

"Do you remember someone called Bartholomew Estheim?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, that fool," Halyard spoke dismissively, turning around. His eyes widened, barely visible in the dim light, as he took in the weapon.

"My name is Hope Estheim."

A few seconds later, the gun clattered onto the floor, and Hope walked out of the house, strong, resolute for a little while. As he crossed the street, he saw the tracks the killer had made, when he first appeared as a Sylph.

The silver haired man fell to his knees, sobbing.

He wasn't sorry, and yet he found he regretted his action. Halyard deserved it, no question, but still…

Hope wished he hadn't been the one to pull the trigger.

X

"Nice that we're actually doing something," Vanille giggled, skipping a little way ahead of the group, though not as far ahead as Kirin.

The Eidolons remained in their circular guard around the group.

"And we weren't before?" Fang chuckled

"We really are now," Dajh was the next to speak, "Oerba. Best place to go if Light wants to contact us again."

"Still," Vanille giggled, "It felt aimless before."

"It was," Fang repeated her point

"The journey was my idea. You might not like it, but we met Etro. That has to count for something," Bartholomew seemed impatient

"And I got an Eidolon!" Dajh half-shouted

"We know," the redhead was giggling, "You keep saying."

Kirin hopped up, and made a motion as if pouncing at Vanille, before gracefully turning sideways and curling around the Gran Pulsian.

"Lesson learned," Fang chuckled

"I wasn't complaining," Vanille squeaked, as Kirin paced, haughty, back in front of the group.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Fang whispered, breath tickling Vanille's ear, "That cat looks vicious."

"She's put up with you for years," Cid, surprisingly, spoke, "Nothing's too vicious for her."

"Was that an innuendo, Raines?" Fang sounded bemused, "That's not like you."

"Five hundred years doesn't go by with no change." Cid sounded pained, "I am not the man you knew. Why else did you think I aided you?"

"I dunno" Vanille squeaked, "Honestly, things couldn't have gotten much worse, you could've been Barthendelus in disguise," Vanille paused, "Again, and it wouldn't have been that bad."

"Your confidence in me is flattering," Cid murmured dryly.

From a distance, the Maker-lights glimmered, brighter than before, and in that small area, densely packed together. The blue lights of Etro shone beside the brilliant white, following it as they trailed through the realm of death, some elaborate, divine dance, unearthly, eerie, yet breathtaking.

"Leave my realm," Etro's voice was as perfectly calm as ever, as she remained parallel to the lights of the Maker. The lights were perfectly spherical, luminescent, and Etro's azure orb appeared to brighten, the more it moved.

_Change._

The word pulsed out from the cluster of Maker-lights. So much promise was in that word: things will change, it is time for change, I will control this place, I will change this place… Soon.

The blue light winked out, attention drawn elsewhere. The lights of the Maker became stationery, shuddering lightly.

Back on the ground, the Eidolons stopped moving, reaching out to each other and forming a circle. The people surrounded by them looked at each other, confused at the sudden change.

Choco cawed, curling his yellow head down, shaking. Bahamut had a thick, metallic arm thrust towards Kirin. The feline contorted its body and shimmering, golden mask so that two legs were on Bahamut, and the others gripped Hecatoncheir. That many-armed Eidolon used all of its slender limbs, creating a fence as it curled, gripping Kirin and the icy Mist Dragon. The final link in the chain, the blue being, had turned to almost solid ice, completing the circle and joining Hecatoncheir and Bahamut, while covering them in a roof of mist.

The shadows cast through the moist air were eerie, and the light itself was darkened, becoming mildly colder.

The party stood in the chill air, Dajh huddling close to Choco and lightly crooning as he rubbed the bird's neck. Cid and Bartholomew also stood near the bird; Fang and Vanille stood separately, arms wrapped around of each other, from intimacy rather than warmth, near the almost-touching arms of their Eidolons. Kirin was just behind them, dressed also in the spreading wall of mist.

"What just happened, "Vanille squeaked

"No idea," Fang shrugged, "What's new?"

"More Eidolons," Vanille chirped hopefully

"Like that'll help. I can't see anything near us, unless it's something big and dramatic like the Maker returning, but that's not gonna happen without more lights."

"I don't know…" Vanille chirped, "Looks like there are different rules in Death."

"Still, She's showy. Creates the world then vanishes into Death; more dramatics than divinity."

The redhead giggled, before the light hearted sound died on her lips, sucked in by the sombre air. The world itself just felt, somehow, wrong.

A glimmer of Maker-light appeared for just a second, in the centre of the group. In the miniscule amount of time it existed, it span around, appearing to survey those around it. It was just crystal, just a sign; but appeared almost sentient.

The Maker was nearing.

Fang and Vanille huddled closer, feeling the very air start to freeze. Not out of cold, thought it was starting to feel cold enough, but out of, almost, fear.

A deafening crack resounded through the air. Rain began to pour down again; sporadic, second-long bursts of a torrential downpour, broken up with seconds, sometimes minutes, of nothing. Lightning flashed; a storm was rising.

Another crash of sound; thunder. The Mist Dragon hardened above them, the rain pattering away from them, hitting the icy form of the Eidolon.

"So this is what the Eidolons heard coming," Fang narrated, still tightly holding Vanille

""Nuh-uh," Vanille shook her head, jittery as more thunder crashed, "They didn't have to circle us for a little rain."  
"This is more than a _little _rain," Fang shot back, shouting into Vanille's ear to be heard over the downpour.

Another crash: this time, not thunder.

If they looked up, they would have beheld an odd phenomenon, indicative of the chaotic state of Etro's realm. Even in the dozens of seconds with no rain, between cloudbursts, the sky was still lit up with forks of lightning, electricity skirting around.

Another deafening, prolonged crash.

The noise was like a landslide; stone upon stone upon rock upon boulder, the earth itself groaning in protest. The crashing continued, a deep rumbling, never quite fading.

The instant came when lightning struck at the Mist Dragon. While the electricity was dispersed by the liquid rain running off the ice, the energy behind it was still a distraction; to which the Maker reacted.

She was forbidden to directly affect them, but still, She could do much.

Even as just a small, twinkling light, She had much power. Once more, she let her power course through the rock and stones and earth.

The ground cracked, titanic energies shifting it.

It was a moment too long before the group realized it; and the noise of the rain, now almost constant, egged on by the Maker, prevented any meaningful conversation.

The Gran Pulsians grabbed hold of Kirin for a few seconds, as the ground shook. Vanille let out a shout of surprise.

Dajh gasped, being the first to notice something, while the earth shook.

A crack was forming between them, snaking through the ground, deep, and widening.

The crystalline lights of the Maker rose out of it, like a swarm; they had caused it, and while the energy had utilized a lot of what power She had for these moments in limbo, She knew it would prove worth it.

Fang and Vanille fell, sprawling, onto the ground as a particularly violent tremor rocked through their part.

"Here!" Cid shouted, as all the humans fell to the ground. He remained upright the longest, before purposefully ducking as the Mist Dragon snapped, ice snapping into shards, as she struggled to cover the whole, splitting group.

With a little effort, the Eidolon reformed as a small ball of fog, shaking by Cid's head. It had broken, and even for one with such a fluid form, it was a dire injury.

Only the Eidolons had remained upright; but even they were struggling to move. Kirin, the nimblest, instinctively ran to her caller, Dajh, hopping over Fang and Vanille. Hecatoncheir and Bahamut began to head towards the Gran Pulsians, but were prevented as lightning home din on their huge, metallic forms. The bolts made the beings fall to the ground, stunned if not permanently hurt.

As the lights of the Maker rose, the last time for a while judging by her current amount of energy, She was impressed by the scene. The ground had cracked in Her specified manner; the Gran Pulsians wrenched away by a U of a growing valley. The Mist Dragon shaking, inconsequential, from being broken. Hecatoncheir and Bahamut struck by lightning. Kirin, like the humans, unable to move with any accuracy over the quaking ground.

In just seconds, the valley was ten metres wide; too far to jump. And the edges were falling down the crevasse; Fang and Vanille scrabbled away, ever-further from their friends, as the crack extended upwards also; harder to walk around.

"Oerba!" Dajh shouted as loud as he could, hoping the Gran Pulsians would hear, "Meet you at Oerba!"

As the rain, so fast now it felt like tiny pebbles being thrown, obscured them from view, Dajh hoped he heard Vanille's ever-cheerful voice call back: "See ya there!" Her tone was little more than a ghost on the wind, if it was even there.

Several minutes ticked by, and the torrential rain eventually ceased its beating.

From a small patch of land, next to a crack, a redhead opened her eyes, stretching and sitting up, from the shell-shape she'd taken to minimize the area the rain hit.

"Glad that's over with," the raven haired Fang muttered, sitting up a metre or so away.

Awed, and mildly afraid, they looked out over the valley which had now formed; the crack in the earth. It was impossible to see the other side with any clear focus; but maybe, just maybe, Dajh, Bartholomew, Cid, Choco and their Eidolons were there, a smudge of colour.

"Impossible," Fang breathed

"D-did we do that?" Vanille squeaked, "The Goddess said we were disturbing Death, but I didn't think…"

"The earth moved," Fang smirked

"Yeah," Vanille nodded, before hearing Fang snort. "Do you ever stop?" Vanille rolled her eyes, amused nonetheless

"Why would I want to?" the raven haired woman responded

Vanille sighed, before changing the subject, "Ya think the Eidolons will come after us?"

"Nah," Fang shook her head, "Look at that," she gestured a hand up towards the darkened sky; lightning still coursing through it, even with no rain. "Nothing could sly through that. Even if they went down the valley, they're big and metal. And the Maker's probably rigged it; ya see `em get hit earlier."

"Dajh said Oerba…" Vanille's voice trailed off, "But we can't get there."

"We can," Fang knelt down next to the depressed, sitting redhead.

"We can't," Vanille remained obstinate, "It's right over there," she pointed directly over the huge wound in the land

"Listen to me Vanille, we will get over there. Even if we have to sprout wings and fly, we can do this."

Vanille giggled

"What?" Fang sounded offended

"You with wings!" Vanille skipped up to her feet, "Coming?"

"Were you even upset?" Fang chuckled

"Nah," the redhead sang, "I just like it when you're all kind."

"I'm always kind!" Fang protested, walking up to the other Gran Pulsian.

Arm in arm, Fang and Vanille made their way along the ground, just to the side of the crack. They wouldn't give in, they promised themselves and each other.


	40. My Name

**Hello!  
As a note for this chapter, I forgot to say earlier: the story of Balduin was (or at least, the mythical version was) inspired by the Norse Myth of Baldur's death.  
In any case, Happy New Year!  
Here's the next chapter. We're obviously drawing closer to the ending. But still a little more to go...**

Lightning sat alone in her house; leaning back on the bare, wooden chair. She had an important choice to make, and a plan to decide upon.

She had to tell the whole world about Fang and Vanille; that much she'd decided; from the myth of Balduin. The whole world to cry out to Etro, and if that wouldn't work, Lightning had little idea what would.

The problem was, as always, the press and the public. In the years leading up to the extraction of the Gran Pulsians, they'd been enough of a pain; now, they were recreating their reputation.

Before, it was hard to even get to work. There was so much hype surrounding the project; and yes, while it was a major effort, people treated it like it was so much more. They were rescuing the saviours of Gran Pulse. From that, the press had turned them into superlatives; some called them gods, some called them demons.

In the attempt to build the lift up the crystal pillar, most of it had been fraught with perils, not from manufacturing difficulties, but from the public. Some rebelled against the idea, physically attacking the construction; Lightning had been forced to call the Guardian Corps in. The rest engaged in smear campaigns, removing lots of support, and making lots of the workers quit for fear of reputation.

You couldn't touch idols.

Lightning had learnt that one truth over the centuries; to even mention them with the possibility that they could be freed was tantamount to blasphemy. They were idols when they supported Cocoon, having given up their lives. To take them down was sacrilege.

When it looked as if they'd succeed, public opinion had made an about-turn. Spurred on by a handful of strong, motivated workers, the project had gone ahead during Lightning's sleep. When the construction around Cocoon was nearing completion, it had suddenly become popular, and it was a sin to not believe in it, rather than the contrary viewpoint put forward so often before.

And now it was those very people who had to call back Fang and Vanille.

If she even mentioned them, even as Freya, the woman who masterminded their extraction, who knows what hype would be thrown at her.

Besides, what should she say? The Chosen, the idols of the world, had died? That alone would spark controversy; to put it mildly. Plus Balduin did feel mythical; mainly due to the light detail given. They knew nothing of the laws governing life and death.

The more she thought, the more one solution gradually became more and more apparent.

The public wouldn't accept her speaking about the Chosen. They just wouldn't; only a few people would be allowed to speak on air about Fang and Vanille, let alone recount their current residence in Death.

One of those people was Lightning Farron.

"Shemhazai," Lightning whispered, leaning forwards. The fal'Cie nimbly entered the room, from where she temporarily dwelt, in the hall.

She had no house in easy access from the main city, so Lightning had converted the back of her hall; no one ever used the kitchen here, and that was the only place the hall lead to. Lightning spent most of her time with Serah, Snow and Sazh, discussing Fang and Vanille and eating there; which meant Shemhazai had made a cave, almost, from the room.

"Have you thought on what to do?" Shemhazai spoke in her normal, whispery tones.

"More or less," Lightning replied, "Fetch the others. They need to hear this."

The fal'Cie nodded, leaving the room quickly. Lightning heard a whoosh, and saw a winged, brown blur outside the window.

The others were coming; that was good. She needed to talk to them; if she was going to announce to the world that she was Lightning Farron, so that they'd for once listen, the public eye would soon be turned on the others in the project.

Herjo, or Sazh. Rudra, or Snow. Sai, or Serah.

If she truly wanted he whole world hooked on her words, as the tale of Balduin suggested, Lightning was the one person who could do it. Not Freya.

And besides, her identity was wearing thin; ever since the Sylph fiasco had been ended, more and more people had seen her without her hood. As the most recognizable figure of the group, it hadn't taken much.

Serah was unconscious throughout much of the ordeal, in crystal sleep, and so her actual, physical appearance was known only by a few, outdated shots, accessible only to obsessive historians. Snow looked completely different without his bandanna; blond hair let free. Hope and Dajh had grown. Sazh had changed his afro.

If you knew what you were looking for, things were surprisingly obvious; but if you never knew them in person, all you had was a vague resemblance to an ancient photo.

Lightning, styled as the leader of the expedition by historians, was a household face; and she had changed surprisingly little over the years. People would know her, and genetic tests, fingerprint scans, would take care of the rest. If she sent for those before speaking, the results could be released after, giving her all the credibility she needed.

Records of the l'Cie were kept extensively. It wouldn't be heard for her identity to be confirmed.

As she drew herself out of her thoughts, Shemhazai returned, sweeping into the room, and tucking her feathered wings back.

"They are near," the fal'Cie spoke, before perching on the wall, relaxing. Her hooves clopped lightly.

"Heya, sis!" Snow's voice sounded as the man entered the house.

"In here!" Lightning shouted, rolling her eyes at his greeting. "And I'm still not your sister."

"C'mon sis-" he entered the room, wincing as Lightning's eyes shot to him, "Ok, Lightning. You ever gonna let that go?"

"No,"

"Was that a joke, Claire?" Serah peered into the room, smiling in an almost Vanille-like fashion.

Lightning felt a pang of sadness at the comparison; these last few days, she'd seen similarities to the Gran Pulsians everywhere. An animal she'd seen in the city, its run reminded her of Fang. The chirp of a bird bore a resemblance to Vanille, always happy. A stray cat was as nimble as Fang; and now Serah's smile, just like Vanille.

She was seeing them everywhere; and it was heartbreaking, though the soldier wouldn't admit it. The thought that so much work, centuries of it, might be in vain, was just a tiny fraction of what she felt; the knowledge that Fang and Vanille may be lost forever, it was too much to bear. But it was always on her mind.

"Nah, our soldier's not gonna _admit _to that," Sazh sounded, walking into the room just behind Sazh.

He man sat down, completing the group; Lightning on a Spartan, bare chair. Serah beside her, on a cushioned seat; with Snow sitting on the floor, just by his wife. Sazh sat the opposite side of the room, his eyes barely concealing the sadness he felt at the death of Dajh. Shemhazai perched on the wall, in the corner, Sazh's side, but a fair distance from the rest of the group.

It scared Lightning to think that this was all of them: four people. NORA had decided to help Asura, well, actually Asura had asked for their help: specifically Maqui's, for some sort of technical suggestion.

So, just these four. Less than last time: Fang and Vanille were in Death, and Hope was lost, probably on Cocoon.

Oops; five. Shemhazai was here too. Though, despite the fact she was a fal'Cie, Lightning was confused as to what the being would actually be able to do. While her quest for redemption was admirable, it seemed useless when they had no way to help, no idea what to do.

Then again, Lightning smiled a little, neither did they. Never stopped them before.

And this time, they did have an idea: Balduin. That myth would help.

"Can we be serious," Lightning phrased it like a question, but her tone was one of statement

"Sure," Snow said, his easygoing grin wiped away by Lightning's tone

"Yes," Serah spoke, nodding, eager, but in an almost solemn way

"Go on," Sazh looked at the soldier.

Shemhazai only nodded, silent.

Lightning was about to launch into her main topic, before remembering how little the others knew. Maybe it would be better to start at the beginning. Lightning's fingers gripped the arms of her chair, tightly, impatiently, though Serah was the only one who realized this.

"I spoke to Fang recently," the soldier spoke, closing her eyes at the clamour that arose immediately upon speaking the words.

Snow, Serah and Sazh were instantly eager to hear more. It took a small gust of wind, summoned by Shemhazai, to make them settle down: "I ask that you let her finish," the fal'Cie spoke.

The ex-l'Cie sat back, abashed.

"The borders between life and death are weakening," Shemhazai was the one to explain the situation, at a gesture from Lightning. "Fang and Vanille were still alive when they fell through the Door of Souls; it is an imbalance which much be rectified."

"We've got to bring them back," Snow spoke, fingers unconsciously tapping out a rhythm to his words.

"Exactly," Lightning said, "And they were told a story by Etro, Gran Pulse Goddess of Death, to help."

"Etro's helping? Why didn't we get divine aid last time?" Sazh chuckled

"Maybe because the divine was our foe," Snow ran a hand through his messy hair, "Call me paranoid, but I don't trust her."

"I think we should," Serah surprised everyone by speaking up. The normally quiet Farron sister shrank back a little at the sudden attention, before meeting Snow's eyes and continuing, "Vanille's trusting her, and I don't think she's easily tricked."

"Fang trusted Raines before," Snow murmured, "You know how that turned out."

"You trusted him too, hero-boy," Sazh shot back

"Exactly," Snow responded, eyes focusing on the man with the afro while his hand rested on the arm of the seat next to him. Serah gently took his thick hand into her small palm.

"Raines is with us now," Lightning effectively ended the debate with her tone; "He helped as a Sylph and now he's with Fang and Vanille in death."

She let that sink in for a moment, irritated by the sudden tangent, before continuing her message.

"Etro told them about some old myth, about Balduin. He's some old Pulsian hero, but he died. The whole world cried. Apparently that was enough; enough voices calling for the resurrection, and it happened."

Lightning inhaled after finishing the story.

"So…what?" Snow frowned, "I don't get it."

"You really are stupid," Lightning threw her head back, "The guy got brought back to life by a lot of people shouting for it. We have to do the same, get people shouting for Fang and Vanille."

"That's gonna be easy," Sazh smiled for the first time, "The public love `em, just a word and Etro'll get more voices than she wanted."

Eventually, the man's face fell: "But it's never that easy."

Lightning smiled, before leaning forwards again. From the side of the room, Shemhazai sat up, paying more attention now that they were on a new topic.

"You're right Sazh," the pink haired soldier spoke, "People wouldn't listen to us; we'd be feeding on the hype if we so much as mentioned them. We need some kind of proof before we tell them."

"Right, that's not so easy," Snow sighed, "Can we come to that later? How are we supposed to get the word out to so many people?"

"That's easy," Serah chimed, "I'm still Sai to the people out there; I filmed it when they were first released, and I think a few people would still listen. I've got some ties, we could get Freya to do a broadcast."

"Freya?" Shemhazai's whispered tones carried across the room, before she silenced herself; "Ah, the identity of Lightning for this time. I forgot."

The group were silent for a little while longer, digesting this latest plan. Lightning, or rather Freya, could do a broadcast, say it's about the Chosen, but don't say what. Then she could tell the world about fang and Vanille, maybe about Balduin. That had to work. But there was still one problem…

"How do we convince people?" Snow sighed, "We have no evidence, or anything."

"We need to be people the public trust completely," Lightning replied, "Or rather, I will, if I'm doing the broadcast."

"That's no easy task," Snow stated the obvious. "Right, you're Freya, the woman who freed them, but that's not gonna carry much wait. Look how much bad press we got when we started the project up."

"Then Freya won't do it," the soldier replied.

The room frowned, before the silence swelled as each of them realized what she was hinting at.

"Lightning could tell them," she said, breaking the silence.

Once more, quiet descended, pure silence. The subject of revealing who they were had become almost taboo over the years; the one thing none of them wanted to mention.

In truth, there wasn't much wrong with it. Yes, the constant attention would be annoying; but for Fang and Vanille... Mild annoyance against their lives, let alone the fate of the barrier between life and death.

On the surface, it seemed like an easy choice: if people would believe them. But Lightning's face, plus her convincing tones… It should be enough.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you," Lightning spoke again, once more taking them out of the silence, "The only thing I can think of, is that we tell people who we are. There are no Sylph hunting us down, now; it should be safe."

"Should," Snow scoffed, "I've heard that before."

"I think it's a good idea," Serah spoke up, partly in defence of her sister, and partly from honest belief.

"Me too, don't get me wrong," Snow looked at his wife, "It just feels odd to be contemplating this, especially now."

"I'm not happy with it," Lightning spoke, surprising the others

"You suggested it," Sazh rolled his eyes

"But," Lightning interrupted rapidly, pausing for a few seconds, looking at the others, "But," she said again, "It's the best we have. Look at all they've done for us: we've done nothing in return."

"Not quite true," Serah murmured, fiddling with her hair

"You know what I mean," Lightning spoke tenderly towards her sister; "They gave up their lives to save us, twice. There's nothing we can do to repay that."

"But you tried," Sazh looked at the soldier, "Twenty years."

"I'd do it again," Lightning snapped, unconsciously brushing a tinged grey lock of hair back.

"No one's contesting that," Snow hastily butted in, trying to settle his sister-in-law down, "But there's no use in choosing to suffer needlessly."

"You can talk," a smile touched the soldier's lips.

A few seconds silence ticked by, tranquil. From her corner, the maroon Shemhazai watched the group of ex-l'Cie, contemplating.

"I'm fine with it," Sazh eventually said.

"That's everyone," Snow said, inhaling before continuing, "Except NORA and Asura."

"And Hope," Serah murmured

"We can't talk to him," Lightning gently, subconsciously, held her sister's hand, "But the others…"

"I'll ask," Shemhazai's whispered tones echoed across the room. They looked at the fal'Cie, surprised, before she vanished from sight, with a sudden blur.

"I guess that's that," Lightning said after a few seconds.

They sat back, relaxing. Waiting for Shemhazai to return from her speedy flight to wherever NORA were. Hopefully she'd be able to find like she said she'd found Lightning; tracking the l'Cie brands they once held.

Everyone from old Gran Pulse bore the brand at some point; most often placed by Sylph, as they slumbered the years away in crystal. Even NORA: so, with any luck, Shemhazai would find them.

A couple of quiet minutes later, the fal'Cie re-entered the room, wing fluttering slightly as she tucked it back. The being looked around, before speaking from her corner.

"Asura is happy to, Gadot agrees, and wants to say how impatient he is, Maqui wants to say 'about time', Yuj is fine with it, Lebreau says to hurry up," Shemhazai's breathy voice paused for a moment, after recounting, "I think that's all they said."

"Ok then," Lightning said firmly, "Before anyone backs out, we'd better do this."

Lightning stood up, leaving the room. She put on her cloak, and lifted her hood once again. tense, she stepped out of the house, muttering draft speeches under her breath.

A few more seconds later, Sazh was the next to, almost reluctantly, stand up. "Goodbye Herjo," he mumbled under his breath sardonically, leaving his alternate name behind. Stiff, stretching, he followed Lightning.

"Go," Serah murmured to Snow. The blonde frowned, but nodded, leaving the room.

Serah and Shemhazai were now in there alone. The fal'Cie didn't seem disturbed; merely resting on the wall.

"Should you not follow your friends?" Shemhazai spoke after half a minute had gone past, "Your influence as Sai may be needed for the broadcast to take place."

"I know, I just," the Farron paused, "needed to ask you something."

"My knowledge is open to you."

"It's about Hope," Serah said, nervous at speaking to the fal'Cie. "We think he's on Cocoon; but, couldn't you just fly up there? You know, to get him."

"Ah, so that is your question," Shemhazai tilted her smooth head, still facing Serah, "I cannot; for I am not as skilled in flight as you may believe. Even fully extended, my wingspan and strength are not as powerful as you may think. Should it even be possible for I to reach Cocoon, it is unlikely I would have the strength to break through the crystal; and even if I could, it would not be easy to find the boy."

"Ah," Serah sighed

"I can but give you my apologies," Shemhazai nodded slowly, "And my assurances that Asura and NORA have a promising idea." A spark of light ran down the side of the fal'Cie's face.

"And really?" Serah raised her eyebrows, voice quiet, innocent, and yet resolute

"Really?"

"Claire told me what it means when you have that energy going down your body. You're hiding something."

"So I am," Shemhazai's metallic face creased, possibly amused, it was hard to tell. "You Farrons share so much."

"And?" Serah prompted

"I was told not to attempt to aid Hope,"

"What?" Serah gasped, before Shemhazai could continue

"Allow me to speak, please," the brown fal'Cie nodded; "It was one of the ghosts who now walk. A once-Sylph slipping through the barrier between life and death. She had been spoken to by Etro."

"Etro again?" Serah could have been sighing, or seeking affirmation.

"The boy resides where he may learn to forgive," Shemhazai spoke the words with reverence

"Huh?"

"That's what the ghost said; Etro's message, to us."

There was a little silence after Shemhazai's proclamation. The pink haired, younger Farron frowned, thinking about it.

"Hope still hates them," she sighed

"I believe so. His heart burns with rage against those he perceives to be responsible his father's demise."

"Etro's trying to help, I suppose. That's one good thing," Serah smiled briefly.

The Goddess Etro, Goddess of Death, had helped them. While Serah didn't' know what, the thought comforted her a little; if the Goddess was helping, Hope may stop with his anger against the Chosen, by the time he was saved.

Relieved at even this small piece of good news, Serah left the room, followed by Shemhazai.

The plan was put into action less than an hour later. As Sai, Serah had a lot of contacts, many from the original broadcast of when Fang and Vanille had been freed. They were all eager to speak to Sai again. It took a few minutes to get permission, hastened by the reputation alone of Freya: she who masterminded the extraction.

It seemed Fang and Vanille would prove to be their own saving grace; their actions which saved Cocoon gave those who'd helped them in any way, a kind of free pass. A mention of their name as the topic, the broadcast was approved; and a slot was easily found due to the command of Freya. Of course, the support of Rudra and Herjo didn't go amiss.

It was a sobering thought to realize that it may well be the last time that they'd go by those names.

Just one half hour would tick by until the broadcast. Word was spread by Shemhazai's magic, and by that grand machine: word of mouth. Simple gossip proved the most useful. Again, the almost-worship of the Gran Pulsians ensured a mention of them would mean the information spread like wildfire.

Lightning sat outside the studio. She was using up the allotted time for some already-cancelled soap: ratings were dropping, and it wouldn't last past the existing series, and so the broadcasting station had happily cancelled it.

The minutes ticked by, worryingly quickly. In all too little time, the moment was there.

Lightning was invited in, to give her broadcast. The studio location was usually used for some news programme or another, but for this one-off, the logos had been covered, and lights changed until it was just plain white, rather than the multiple, tacky, shades of red, blue and green the normal programme used.

Minutes ago, 'Freya' had submitted a sample of her DNA to a testing cooperation. She hadn't said it was hers; but instead, had asked they compare it with the Guardian Corps' files on Lightning. The results would be displayed on the screen behind her. That should be the final bit of evidence; and it was due in just a few minutes.

"Five, four," the broadcast hand behind the camera counted, using his fingers to count down the last three, two, one…

"Hello," Lightning began in the classical manner.

From a staff box behind the cameras, Lightning saw the directors and the other official people widen their eyes; the broadcast was going out live. And it seemed, the viewing figures were already shocking them. A good start.

"You know me as Freya, the woman who ran the project to extract the two Chosen from crystal."

Lightning paused briefly, tapping a button on her PDA by her side. A draft email was sent to the technical assistants: _put up the DNA testing results on the screen behind me. The percentage match specifically. It was my DNA._

"Well, that's not quite true," Lightning couldn't quite hold back a small smile, mostly to herself. She lowered her hood, just as the DNA results were displayed.

Freya: 100% DNA match with Lightning Farron.

"My name is Lightning Farron," she said, surprisingly relieved to be using her own name again, "I need to speak to you about Fang and Vanille."


	41. To Find And Forgive

**Well, here comes the next chapter!  
Updates could be a little slower due to College. But in any case, I hope you still enjoy this! Still a little more to go, but the end is sadly in sight. Even if most reviewers did drop away after Part 1.  
Enjoy! **

"I don't like being alone," Vanille sighed, as she walked along the edge of the titanic valley, holding Fang's hand.

"You're not alone," the elder Gran Pulsian replied, squeezing the redhead's hand

"You know what I mean," the bouncier woman sighed, giggling, "It wasn't just an offer for you to be all kind and cute."

"I'm _always_ kind and cute," Fang shot back, chuckling. "Well, not cute, You're the cute one," Fang amended with a chuckle

"Yay!" Vanille skipped forwards a little way.

Rolling her eyes, Fang followed, as they continued to move along the ground.

The soil was turned over, messy, all sense of order long since left. Stones had fallen into the huge gap; a small little slope formed at the tip of the crevasse, before suddenly giving way to the drop.

Carefully moving, the two Gran Pulsians edged along the ravine. Somewhere the other side, somewhere, their friends were; most probably also struggling to find them.

Far above, the sky rumbled with thunder. Occasionally, a flash of energy, and a bolt shot down, usually hitting some point the opposite end of the gap.

Though they weren't to know it, each and every bolt came from a command left in the sky by the Maker's brief interference. They struck the Eidolons; the other side of the gap, Bartholomew Estheim walked along. One side of him, Dajh atop Choco rested, Kirin nimbly treading the ground alongside the ambling bird. On Bartholomew's other side, Cid was walking. Cradled in his arm, a small orb of mist rested; the Mist Dragon, injured when she'd been shattered at the creation of the gap. Hecatoncheir and Bahamut were with them; guarding, but also, at seemingly random intervals, attempting to fly or leap across the gap.

On every occasion, lightning had struck. Bahamut was flung to the ground, and soon was struggling to lift from the ground. Hecatoncheir tried to jump; not knowing if he'd succeed, but desperate to see his caller once more. Lightning struck, and Bahamut, just barely saved him.

Even when they tried at once, the lightning rained down. Bahamut just barely saved the many-armed Eidolon.

"I hope they heard me," Dajh mused aloud; "I said to go to Oerba."

"They heard," Cid said, "Just trust that."

Kirin bounded forward a little way quickly coming back to them with something in her golden mouth. She hopped up onto her hind-legs, reaching up; Dajh took the tiny little thing from her mouth.

It was a blue leaf; the same kind Vanille carried, now inaccessible. Upon it, Kirin's thoughts were transcribed; _We can talk and speak, only in brief. Please, if we have something to say, use the leaf._

Kirin's statement of 'in brief' seemed strangely appropriate; that short speech barely fit ion the leaf, and Dajh had to squint to make it all out.

Hecatoncheir stepped towards him, a tapered limb nearing the leaf. Frowning, Dajh reached out and let the leaf touch the cold arm. Seconds later, he took the leaf back, to read the Eidolon's thoughts.

_IWTFT –IOIH S-NE HDM_

Dajh blinked, confused at the bizarre writing. The Eidolon's had strange though patterns; that much was obvious. Kirin only spoke in rhyme, and Hecatoncheir used this strange code.

_All the limbs, kinda frightening. But he thinks he can get past the lightning._

Dajh blinked as the text morphed before his eyes. Kirin; had to be, the feline had just brushed the leaf. Despite the slightly shoddy nature of the rhyme this time-excitement?-the idiolect identified the Eidolon.

"I wish to find them," Dajh read aloud after a few seconds of thought; "Hecatoncheir said it."

It made a little sense, when Dajh thought about it. The Eidolon had lots of arms; all of them would write something, and with a little thought, Dajh concluded that the text was somehow fragmented for that reason. As if, each 'word' was a fragment of the whole speech; so he read it, letter at a time. First letter of the first word, first of the second etc, stopping when he found a dash, and reading from the second letters that time.

From what he'd seen of the Eidolon in action, it made sense; each arm was occupied doing some separate action; first letter, second letter… Maybe the idea had emanated out from the leaf; in any case, Dajh could understand it now.

_DTV OHA WEL N-L –E Y_

"Down the valley," Dajh read again. He looked up at the metallic figure. "Go on then," he smiled gratefully, hoping he'd make it to the Gran Pulsians. They had nothing better to try.

"As long as Bahamut stays with us," Bartholomew hastily put in; "We need some protection, just as they need theirs. Hecatoncheir should get to them, protect them; Bahamut should do the same for us. Kirin is hardly a fighter."

"I wouldn't let her hear you say that," Dajh replied, amused, fondly scratching the cat's neck.

"And Mist Dragon is out of action, for now," Raines spoke, almost regretful.

_TY HO AU N- K_

"Thank you," Dajh read the leaf, looking back up at the crimson Eidolon, "You're welcome."

With a nod, Hecatoncheir looked back at the ravine.

The group paused, to see what he was planning.

He spread his arms back, tensing, as if preparing a catapult. And then, with a leap, bounded straight over the valley. He moved further than he had before; putting so much energy in the one thrust. But that wasn't saying much; he probably used magic to propel himself that time. Then they noticed; the small, orange glow over his metallic skin wasn't just a boost; it was a shield. Lightning struck, sending the Eidolon whirling down the crevasse.

The smaller Eidolon had one hope; that there was solid ground at the base of the gap. It was hard to focus on anything down there. His hope was to hit the ground, shielded, and too far for the lightning to hit. And then to move; ascend, and protect his Chosen.

The other side of the gap, unaware of the crimson being hoping to survive and find them, Fang and Vanille continued. They stayed close to each other, unsure of what lurked in Death.

"Did we cause this?" Vanille squeaked suddenly, the thought overflowing

"I'd be flattered if we did," Fang looked appreciatively over the gap.

"I'm serious!" Vanille nudged the elder woman

"Me too. I really would be impressed."

"Come on!" Vanille giggled, "The Goddess said we were disturbing Death."

"It was not you," a third voice suddenly sounded.

The Gran Pulsians paused, surprised, looking around. A glimmering blue light appeared in front of them, swelling until it was about the size of a human.

Serene, the Goddess Etro stepped out. She looked very much the same as before; and yet, somehow, she seemed older. Hair so, so pale, as before, but now it appeared tinged grey rather than white; and her skin was less smooth, and almost tarnished.

"I must speak," she spoke, "It is something I truly believe you would wish to view. But first, believe what I say."

"Huh?" Vanille just blinked, stunned by the sudden appearance of the divinity.

A smile graced the still-perfect blue lips.

"It was not your fault, dear one. Your Maker interfered. Truly, your presence may have made it easier; I shall not lie to you. However, believe I: She has always had the ability to perform such a feat. She created the fal'Cie, did She not? Such a change of landscape would prove easy when compared with the formation of life."

The Gran Pulsians gratefully digested this latest information; they weren't to blame. The Maker alone bore the responsibility for the dramatic changes the landscape had undergone.

With a soft quirk of her lips, Etro raised a slender hand, holding it in an odd, symmetrical, grasping position. She kept the shape for a few seconds, closing her eyes, until-

"Now," the word left her lips as little more than a whisper.

It was as if they'd moved completely. One moment they were on the ruined Gran Pulse afterlife, and now, a word later, they were in some building, a TV studio judging by the cameras. Lightning sat at the front of it; in front of some other screen saying something about a DNA match.

"Wow," Vanille breathed, surprised by the clarity of the vision.

"Sense sound is ghosting," Etro spoke; "The light and sound from this portion of life, has been allowed to manifest here in my realm."

"I thought ghosts were the dead coming back to life?" Fang frowned

"Here, it is life coming to Death."

They fell silent, the Goddess watching as they surveyed the scene.

"My name is Lightning Farron," the words came from the soldier's lips, as her hood rested on her shoulders, lowered. "I need to speak with you about Fang and Vanille."

Vanille bit back a giggle. Despite the solemnity, the importance of the scene she was seeing (Lightning had told the world who she really was?) it was incredibly amusing to see the expressions of the staff around the TV set. The cameraman had knocked the camera, making it wobble for a little, upon the revelation. And the rest of the hands, the workers and people, on the set similarly froze, stunned.

"You know the story of four hundred and ninety nine years ago: almost five hundred as I speak right now. The tale did not end with the Fall: it was only then that we met the Sylph: and they feature in this story a great deal. You saw them as fal'Cie; they weren't, but they acted it for centuries. Because of that, we could enter crystal sleep, over the years. As you can see, I have aged: I, my sister, her husband, Sazh, his son and my adopted son aided the project to save Fang and Vanille."

An irked expression crossed Lightning's face.

"I would also like to say, contrary to your magazines, neither Hope, Fang, Vanille, Snow, nor Serah, was my lover."

"She sounds disappointed," Fang whispered at the few seconds long break.

Vanille stifled a giggle.

"The project came to fruition just months ago," Lightning continued, unaware of the watching Gran Pulsians. "And they were saved. The Sylph now play a greater part; you should know about the events of weeks ago, so long as you have eyes. They went mad, and then vanished. Everyone wondered why; and only I, and those with me, know the truth."

Even the studio audience sat, awed, by her tale, if not by her very presence. They were hanging on every word. Fang and Vanille half-wished they could leave the room, to see how many people were watching, and their expressions.

"The Sylph were the embodiment of the Maker, the Goddess who was the cause of the Fall. Fang and Vanille, along with us, prevented Her return for the second time. In the end, it was almost all down to those two Gran Pulsians, they are the reason the destruction the Maker's return would have wrought, was averted."

Fang nudged Vanille, grinning. The redhead grinned back.

"And then, because of this," Lightning hesitated, before continuing, "They flung themselves over the Door of Souls, pushing the Maker back in Her last attempt to return. In doing so, they fell through."

A wave of stunned silence washed through the room. More than the shock that made them freeze upon finding out who Lightning was, this was closer to an icy paralysis.

"Even at this moment, Fang and Vanille wander the realm of Death. But all is not lost: I have spoken to them. Their very presence, still living, disrupts the border between life and death; that is the reason for the ghosts you all have been seeing. We need to save them: and they told me how to. There is an old Gran Pulsian story, about a man called Balduin. He was summoned back to life by the words and thoughts of the peoples of the world."

Etro stiffened, watching the scene. A gentle smile rested on her striking lips. Vanille nudged Fang, pointing it out; as if she was preparing for something.

"I need you all to do one thing for me, for us, for them. Hold them in your thoughts; the two chosen. Oerba Yun Fang and Oerba Dia Vanille. However you choose to think of them; just think of them, remember them. And with that, call for them. Everyone listening, even those of you on the other side of the world, who should be asleep, think of them. Call them back, all of you! Call them back to life!"

A light appeared to emanate from Etro. Fang and Vanille looked at each other, excited, surprised by the persuasiveness of Lightning's speech.

The light, now a shining cerulean, spread out from Etro.

It may have been their imagination, but the TV crew almost looked straight at Fang and Vanille. Even Lightning's eyes shot towards them.

Then the light overwhelmed.

They were in an empty blue void; no, not a void, it was a world. Just, everything was muffled by blue light. Until…

They were back in the realm of Death. The same place they had been; no trace of Etro, nor of Life.

"What…what was that?" Vanille gasped, looking around, surprised and panting.

"I think…she was showing us something."

"I guessed that," Vanille rolled her eyes at Fang's simple response: "But, shouldn't we be back there now?"

"Apparently not," Fang paused, "Maybe it just summoned the Goddess."

"So, we're not saved yet?" Vanille sighed

"Apparently not," Fang pursed her lips, "How long ya think it'll be?"

"Until Lightning forces Etro to give up," Vanille giggled, "She could manage it."

"I know what you mean," Fang chuckled. "If anyone could annoy a Goddess that much, it's her. Once she starts glaring at you, there's no saying 'no'."

They laughed, but it was just to hide the surprised emptiness they felt: why hadn't they been recalled to life?

Smiling however, they began to move on.

A few steps later, they drew to a stop, surprised, almost afraid. Another light was forming in the air; but this one was white, almost completely so, save for the occasional tinge of blue lightning at the edges of it, as it swelled, growing.

Within it, a golden eyes was visible; but not a normal eye, an eye similar to the brand of a Gran Pulse fal'Cie. The symbol of the Maker.

A long, long way downwards and generally, a metallic, crimson being struck solid rock with enough force to shatter it. It was still for many moments, before moving a tiny amount; then a tiny amount more, beginning to crawl, purposefully, along the shattered ground.

X

Hope pulled himself out of the thick rug, stepping outside the house, still wrapped up under several borrowed, preserved, layers to save himself from the biting cold which dominated Cocoon.

He was now, truly, alone.

Breathing heavily, garbed in his normal, now smelly and dirty, clothes, along with a thick coat and gloves preserved by the Sylph, he made his way down the street. He kept his distance from the street where Halyard now lay, lifeless, and which lead to the ruined PSICOM base, which held, somewhere, Rhoswen.

His concerns were, now, much simpler than grand, centuries-long revenge: food and water. The basic of life were almost impossible to find in this empty shell; without Rhoswen's water spells, his throat was parched. And without access to the crystal Cheqas, his stomach was starting to feel empty.

Where would be a good place to go? He wasn't totally certain where he was, somewhere in Eden, but that was all he knew. The buildings looked different to how they had before, worn away by time, and not much sunlight penetrated the thick crystal.

With a shout, he ran, sprinting, wearing away his frustration. Step, step, step. His footsteps pounded a rhythm into the shell under his feet, more, further, burning away the loneliness.

Minutes later, he stopped, panting, weary, and resting on crystal.

He'd reached the boundary, the edge of the city. The Sylph bubble that had held the magma and crystal at bay centuries ago, ended here.

It made him feel somehow claustrophobic; he was, in fact, in an enclosed space, a dome under crystal. While he knew it to be true, coming face to face with the boundary made it more real.

Hope muttered a curse under his breath, quickly taking his hand away from the icily cold crystal. He blinked, sneezing as dust rose away from it. The Sylph may have preserved Cocoon over the centuries; but over the last days, weeks, the shell was falling into the disrepair it should, by rights, have entered into immediately after the Fall.

One last thing to try. The silver haired man sighed, panting, before inhaling once again. Worn out, he began to run again, this time with a specific target in mind.

A fair few minutes later, once he'd fallen into a weary walk, Hope found his way inside Eden-Hall.

Breathing heavily, the ex-l'Cie walked down the winding, bronze hall, soon finding his way to the central area. He paused, nervous, before moving onwards, up a grand stair case, to what had once been a lift. On his way out, he'd been able to jump; the upwards climb was tougher. He struggled onto it; the rusty mechanism had made it catch in some point a little way up its path.

He struck the control panel clumsily. The lift juddered to life, groaning as the ancient mechanism began to lift him up.

After a minute or so, sitting, panting, on the slow lift, he made it to the top. Hope got to his feet, walking off it to a large, rusted yet still golden room. Grand, ornate, yet forbidding.

Orphan's Cradle, supposedly.

Unlike before, he wasn't transported to the strange dimension; he was left in the room before that. Still, the place was significant; there had to be something.

The Sylph had changed it, that much was obvious, making it more like a temple than anything. One of the feminine Lindzei statues from within Orphan's Cradle was on the floor, split in half and as good as shattered; and about it, a representation of a Gran Pulse fal'Cie brand was made out of solid gold, seemingly resting on empty air. When Hope got closer however, he could see tiny strings, threads, keeping it aloft.

"You look familiar, "Hope mumbled to himself, prodding the idol with a finger and watching the various components lightly spinning.

He blinked, stepped back suddenly, as a bleu light formed in the centre of it. It was the same blue as the lights which surrounded Rhoswen, as she regained her memory.

It swelled into a large circle. It remained two-dimensional however; not like anything solid, more like a window.

Hope froze as he saw who was on the other side: Fang and Vanille.

He didn't know what to do; he just stuttered to himself, hands flailing a little from the surprise.

"Hope?" Vanille squeaked, squinting at the window of light, "Is that you?"

"Y-yeah," the silver haired man nodded, stunned.

He hadn't expected to see them so soon; but he soon regained control of his thoughts. He had to apologize, while his memory probably made things worse, he still knew how cruelly he'd been to them in the other Orphan's Cradle, when the Sylph had died.

"Listen, kiddo," Fang began, "We're sorry for doing what we did, back then-"

"Don't," Hope shook his head, before Fang could continue, "It wasn't your fault. I see that now."

"A little sudden," Fang blinked, raising her eyebrows

"It wasn't, a lot happened," Hope shrugged

"What? Now I'm interested," Fang tilted her head, frowning at the man through the circle of light.

Had Etro made this? Vanille reasoned; it seemed about right, to speak with Hope, comforting them, so they knew he'd forgiven them. Maybe seeing them, his voice would be added to the chorus on Gran Pulse calling for their return.

"Someone else came back to life," Hope murmured, "Halyard Lee Wevos."

"That sound familiar," Fang frowned

"He killed my father."

Vanille gasped; "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Hope replied after a split second's pause. "I think I needed it. He showed me the truth."

"Huh?" Vanille frowned

"It wasn't your fault he died. I know that now: it was his."

"T-Thanks," Vanille nodded, unusually solemn, serious. "I didn't do it to hurt you."

There was a pause, as the white portal began to flicker. From the view of it in Death, blue flashes began to dominate it. Hope stepped away from it, as it seemed to grow wildly.

"I forgive you, `k?" Hope shouted, barely heard over the crackling portal.

"Ok!" Vanille shouted. Fang just nodded.

Smiling, the silver haired man stepped back, as the window seemingly slammed shut.

"Interference," Etro's voice, recognized by Fang and Vanille though not by Hope, sounded both sides of the glimmer, strained, before the light winked away.

It took Hope a moment to figure out the voice's meaning: something had interfered with his conversation, interrupting the portal. It could only be the Maker. She still worked against them.

Irritated to learn this fact, he turned, before sitting and slumping against the wall. Cold, hungry, thirsty, and now the Maker was interfering again.

Not a good day.


	42. Call Them Back To Life

**Yay! here's the next chapter!  
Things are reaching the end, and everything will be drawn together...well, most things. Not the things that haven't already been resolved, or the things that weren't resolved by then. Well...I'm rambling.  
In any case, hope you enjoy! **

"Call them back to life!" Lightning gave the rallying cry to the camera, submitting it to the whole of Gran Pulse, before she sat back in her chair, still maintaining eye contact with the rest of the world.

Out of the corner of her vision, she could see the studio crew following her instructions. They closed their eyes, concentrating, focusing on one thing. Fang and Vanille.

The pink haired soldier summoned the same thoughts, the same image to her head.

The Gran Pulsians, as they were before, alive, active, carefree, determined…

Their characteristics rattle doff in her head, one by one, until she'd constructed a portrait meticulously crafted and detailed. Vivid. Hopefully enough so to add wait to the call.

"Summon them back," she spoke her words in little more than a whisper, barely putting thought into them.

Her mind was focused on the idea of the Gran Pulsians.

While Serah had written the whole speech, Lightning had now finished that, with the 'call them back to life'. The words she mumbled onto the camera were her own, barely thought-out, invention. A chant almost, an aid to thought, to focus.

Return, Fang and Vanille.

The whole world watched. It might seem inaccurate to say that, but it was how it stood. On the daylight half, word was spread of the broadcast; the appeal of Freya proving enough.

Once her identity was realized, call after call was made, waking up the sleeping half of the world. Lightning was still alive. Even children awoke at their midnights, to see the once-in-a-lifetime event, the chance to see Lightning Farron, and to save the saviours of the world.

The Pulse-net which encompassed the planet gradually froze, too much activity coursing through it. People sending messages, or recording, or looking up reviews. Social networking sites went haywire for a minute or so, before each and every one crashed from the excited strain. There were hundreds of short messages, posted consecutively, all saying the same thing: "Call them back to life!"

Lightning's phrase, Serah's creation, had sparked a frenzy. Everyone was watching by that line.

Several websites, in the unlikely event someone would visit them, had changed to just the words 'call them back to life': on search engines, video sites, all of them, those words were prominent, as a logo, as a description, whatever, but resolutely there. It was as if the virtual pulse-net world was also shouting, calling for the Gran Pulsians to return.

For a split second, back in the studio, Lightning could've sworn she'd seen Fang and Vanille, ghosts, watching.

But the instant soon passed; and the set became more normal, well, as normal as it could be.

Then the Light formed in the centre of it; blue, vivid, strong, eerie.

The Light spread, growing. Around it, time itself seemed to stop: the TV crew froze where they were. Only Lightning appeared unaffected.

Call them back to life!

The Light dimmed after several minutes, revealing a woman.

She was fairly tall, her skin deathly pale, smooth save for her face. Two milky white, misty eyes were set either side of a petite nose, and below that, two lips caught all attention. The same, deep blue as the Light.

"I believe you called?" The Goddess Etro bowed her head, respectful, and serenely joyous.

A few tentative moments ticked by.

"I-I did," Lightning responded, berating herself for the stutter. She was normally brave, but the shock of such a figure appearing would have its toll on anyone, even her.

"And why?" Etro opened her milky eyes further, somewhere between impatient and urgent

"Fang and Vanille. Bring them back." Lightning spoke in statements, withdrawing into her soldier persona in an effort to dispel any tension, any overt respect she felt at the deity.

She couldn't let anything distract her; not for something this important. Focus Lightning, focus…

"You wish life to be restored?" Etro's piercing, pale gaze locked onto Lightning's blue orbs

"Yes."

"I can't."

"What?" Lightning stumbled as she heard those word.

"I cannot," Etro spoke again," I am constrained by laws not of my own making."

"You told Fang and Vanille!" Lightning was shouting by now, "You told them it would work!"

"I do not believe so," Etro was infuriatingly calm

"They told me. You said 'yeah'. Not obviously, but you hinted at it."  
"Hidden meanings in my words?" Etro raised her eyebrows, "Indeed."

The Goddess fell silent, blue lips seemingly shimmering.

The half-light of the room with time frozen cast strange shadows on the floor. Lightning unconsciously shivered, staring down the divinity.

"Then what should we do?" the soldier spoke again, barely suppressing her frustration

"That I cannot say," Etro's eyes bore into Lightning's, "You must summon the Chosen your own way."

"You're not helping," Lightning rolled her eyes

"It is forbidden," for that brief instant, Lightning could see that Etro was equally, if not more so angry at these laws. "You are unable to fly without aid; just as I am unable to resurrect."

"Then this whole Balduin myth was a waste of time?"

"It is too early to say," Etro kept her eyes watching the pink haired soldier, "Blessings may be in disguise; like my messengers. They seem grave, but have saved you many times."

"If you don't help, then we're all doomed," Lightning intoned dully, no idea as to what other tack to try.

"That we are. But rules still apply."

The Goddess Etro and Lightning Farron both stood in the room, facing each other. Both frustrated, both hiding it, and both feeling positive about the other.

There was nothing to be done, it seemed. But Lightning refused to accept that; and Etro knew she wouldn't.

"You spoke to Shemhazai about Hope, Serah told me," Lightning said eventually, "And Fang and Vanille, are they safe?"

"Which do you wish me to answer?" Etro spoke, amused, yet kindly so

"Both."

"Which first?" Etro smiled, not out of laughter, but out of courtesy.

"Fang and Vanille," Lightning replied instantly, "Tell me they're safe."

"Would you not rather I spoke the truth rather than speaking a request?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do," Etro bowed her head. "And they are safe, as alive as they can be, and truly well. Your Maker wore Her own energy away: She will not threaten for some more time."

"You're sure?" Lightning stepped closer to the Goddess, trying to be certain there was no misunderstanding

"It is my realm. I am as sure of it as I may be of anything."

Etro sounded, for the first time, close to irritation. Her knowledge of her realm seemed to be the one sore spot in access to Lightning; the soldier made sure not to mention it again.

"Bartholomew and the others are with them, right?" Lightning double-checked

"No." Etro responded simply.

"What? I saw them earlier-"

"It is true they were once together: however, the land beneath their feet changed, and stole them away. The work of your Maker. They wander, even now, with just each other; though one doth seek them."

"Who"? Lightning looked up urgently

"Do not fear. It is the many-handed one, my messenger Hecatoncheir."

Lightning exhaled in relief. They'd be protected, somewhat, then. That was a good sign: the Eidolon would help them. And if, when, they joined up with everyone else, they'd be able to survive, at least until Lightning could get to them. She still needed to bring them back.

Call them back to life!

The words from the whole of Gran Pulse rested heavily on her shoulders.

"And Hope?" Lightning eventually spoke again, trying to remind herself that something may be going well. After all, Asura was working on saving him.

"He has not yet entered my realm."

"You told Shemhazai not to help him," Lightning rolled her eyes impatiently

"I did," Etro nodded. "I will not deny it."

"Are you always this vague?" Lightning snapped, for a split second forgetting to think.

Once she did remember to think however, she didn't care. Goddess or not, Lightning wanted to know the truth, and if Etro refused to say it…

"Patience child," Etro mollified, "Rules constrain me. The world has summoned me, and I must come. I will answer what you ask: but I may do no more."

Lightning paused. She had to ask? Well, that made sense. And in any case, for however long Etro was staying, she'd do all she could to get answers.

"Why did you tell Shemhazai not help Hope?" Lightning said eventually, taking the hint.

She had to take the initiative; and luckily, it wasn't hard for her. Etro needed to be asked questions, so that she could respond. Promising herself not to disappoint, Lightning carefully observed the Goddess.

"He needs to heal," Etro spoke, "Upset from the loss of his father, he felt betrayed by the Chosen. Something had to be done to cure him of the blame."

It was a few seconds before the listening soldier realized Etro had stopped speaking.

"And what was that thing?" Lightning prompted

"Another to blame. He who the Sylph corrupted by their eternal touch. He was poisoned to never reach eternal rest: he wanders limbo. Hope needed to see him."

"As a ghost?" Lightning's eyes narrowed

"No," Etro shook her head, melancholy

"You brought him back to life," Lightning said, staccato

"No such thing. It is forbidden," Etro spoke, voice somehow icy and kindly in equal measure. "He simply overtook one other: as my Door of Souls was at long last sealed and your Maker drawn inwards, he suddenly found himself in the place nearest the manifestation of the Door."

"You moved him there."

"Maybe," Lightning briefly saw a glint which could only be described as mischievous, in Etro's pale eyes, "And he simply moved through. The death of so many others made the imbalance negligible: he appeased the sacrifice intended for your Maker."

Light suddenly pulsed, for no determinable reason. A look, a flash of worry, appeared on Etro's so-often serene face. Quickly, the cerulean Light which appeared with the Goddess, again appeared, this time around the edge of the room. Moving faster than the eye could see, it drew inwards, passing over chairs and tables, cameras and cables, around the humans frozen in time, and even moving around the outline of the surprised Lightning Farron.

It smashed inwards onto the pale Etro. The blue light surrounded her, cocooned her, shrank her, until she was just a crystalline twinkle. Little more than one of the many lights which appeared whenever the Maker was near; only a clear, beautiful blue, rather than harsh white.

It hovered there, suspended by nothing. Lightning frowned, stepping closer.

"_The rules call me back. I spoke too much._"

The words from that glimmer sounded, somehow, stronger; more like one would expect a Goddess to sound. Not the lilting, sad, yet somehow quirky words of the pale woman with blue lips. The speech of the light boomed, resounding through Lightning's heart and mind. It was still kind, solemn, graceful somehow. But more…inhuman.

When the light spoke, it was hard to doubt Etro's divinity.

"_Call the Chosen._"

The Goddess Etro spoke once more, before the light twinkled to nothing.

"Already tried that," Lightning muttered to herself, irritated, turning to walk back to her seat when-

The noise hit her like a hammer. The silence of the timeless moment she'd spent with Etro was at an end. Cameras whirred, people whispered, fans span, lights buzzed, paper rustled… All the millions of inconsequential noises she barely paid attention to returned, more prominent after their brief departure from Lightning's life.

"_A gift._"

Etro's Godlike voice murmured.

Lightning was put at ease by the words alone; maybe the broadcast was not all in vain, if there was a gift from Etro.

She didn't know what the gift was; such was the influence of the voice. It was hard to doubt anything spoken in that tone.

Gran Pulse watched, unable to see a change. Lightning was sitting where she always had been, as if the whole conversation was a dream. No time had passed. Instead, she watched the camera lens, which watched her with equal unblinking focus.

The world waited, seconds from the now-famous phrase. Call them back to life. Lightning had spoken it not long ago; not to them at least. They saw no change, just a sudden shock appearing and being masked on the idol's face. People stared intently down the camera, at Lightning Farron.

Something had to happen. They all supported her…

"_Closer._"

The lone word echoed over the whole word; from Lightning, but not her lips. It came from the Goddess Etro, still clinging onto the realm of life, a last word. A word to Lightning, but one carried through camera and TV screen, until the whole of Gran Pulse heard that unutterably convincing, divine word.

Closer.

And then, quiet and together, Fang and Vanille appeared on the screen; with no more substance than the ghosts in the street. But they walked straight past, straight through Lightning, not seeing the set, nor having any inkling of the world that watched them for those precious few seconds.

"We will call them back," Lightning said again, now with no clue. "We will."

Her words sounded more hollow than ever now, more hollow than even when she'd first expressed similar sentiments in Orphan's Cradle.

X

Asura stood, pacing, grinning at the lethal-looking machine she and NORA worked on.  
It was almost done; she knew it! A day or so of frantic research, another couple of creating a blueprint, and finally, with NORA's efforts, the completion. It wasn't easy, but it would be worth it, if it could save Hope.

Asura paused for a moment, reflecting, looking out the window, up at the crystal Cocoon that hung in the sky. Hopefully they were right, and he was up there.

"Return trip ready Yuj?" the black-and-red haired woman turned sideways, a restrained smile creasing her cheeks.

The blue haired man looked up, lifting a thick pair of goggles, with lenses to zoom in over the eyepieces. On the table in front of where he sat, two metal bands which could best be described as the straps of a backpack, without an actual pack, only a thin sheet of elastic, lay. Small blue lights shone at the side, and a small keypad beeped from the front, as he lifted it up.

"Think so," the NORA member nodded, grinning.

Asura finally allowed herself a real, broader grin. This day couldn't get any better.

"We interrupt this programme to bring you a special broadcast, which has become common knowledge already. A word from Freya, saviour of the Chosen."

The newsreader on the TV read the words out in her normal, monotonous tone.

"Turn that up!" Gadot suddenly shouted, as he thought about the words.

"Already on it," Maqui replied.

The silver haired youth dug around in the mess of wires and circuitry around him, until eventually, triumphantly reclaiming the remote from beneath a large light bulb.

The volume of the TV shot up, reaching a deafening boom, before it was quickly lowered again.

The first clear words were: "My name is Lightning Farron." The soldier's hood went down.

"She never said she was doing that!" Maqui gasped, open-mouthed

"`Course she did," Yuj chuckled

"That fal'Cie chick said so earlier," Gadot jabbed his thumb back over his shoulder.

Asura raised her eyebrows, looking at him

"Oh, you know what I mean," the thick-set man shrugged, tensing a little at Asura's glare, "Besides, I don't think of you as a chick."

"Really," Asura's tone was high, and sarcastically interested.

"Here you go," Lebreau swept into the room, slamming a noxious looking dark green drink onto the desk in front of Gadot.

"What's that?" Asura looked away from Gadot, smiling again, now amused.

"I call it foot-in-mouth," Lebreau chuckled, "Tastes like feet. Light helped make it."

Asura let out a chiming laugh. Gadot backed away from the vile drink.

"Would you be quiet! I'm watching this," Yuj shouted, acting angry but laughter was evident in his words.

Solemn, NORA and Asura looked back at the TV.

Honestly, Lightning's speech was pretty good. Really good, actually. The soldier had plenty of practise at oration though, come to think of it. She'd been the figurehead of the group, especially in the weeks after the Fall.

"Call them back to life!" the soldier gave a shout.

Asura's grin broadened; she could feel the effect of that sentence, such energy behind those words, and such meaning. Like throwing a stone into a pond, the ripples spread along wires and air and waves and light, to every household on Gran Pulse, even on the screens mounted in public squares.

Yuj whistled appreciatively, watching the TV but also fiddling with a computer to his side. "Vigintil's down," he commented, "Overloaded. Too much traffic."

That was the name of a search engine, used to trawl through the Pulse-Net. Upon seeing Lightning, so many went online. All to find out what they could, to write down on social networking sites, any number of things.

Maqui whistled, spinning his laptop around. "It's back up."

The home page, normally covered with just a small box and, in colourful, friendly letters, the title VIGINTIL, had been replaced, in the same colourful font, by Lightning's already-famous line: call them back to life!

"This has got to work," Asura looked back at the screen, tense.

She closed her eyes, hoping, trying to slow her nervous breathing. They had to be coming back… They just had to. It was only fair, only justice.

Then again, when had reality been based around justice?

A bright, blue flash dominated the screen for a split second, as Asura opened her eyes, soon fading. There was no change, though Lightning appeared shocked, surprised. Was it just interference? Or something more?

"_Closer_."

The word resounded in Asura's head, sounding like the steady ringing of a huge bell, or the cry of the greatest fal'Cie, a powerful, yet not arrogantly so, word.

For just seconds, the ghosts of Fang and Vanille walked past, walked through, Lightning.

The first step had been taken then: the Gran Pulsians were visible. And evidently something had happened. Whoever had spoken that word, and the flash of light: both had meaning. Somehow.

Confident, Asura strode out of the room. NORA shrugged, letting her; she'd done plenty of work, she'd been the driving force behind the project to rescues Hope. She needed a break.

It was several minutes before Asura's hasty walking slowed to a stop, and by then she was several blocks away, in an alley away from public view. And, judging by the renewal of normal service, mainly commercial, on the TV screens she could see, Lightning had left the studio a while ago.

The woman dug her hand into her pocket, nimbly flicking a phone out, and dialling quickly.

"Hey, Light," she spoke, "We need you."

"Really?" the soldier didn't bother with the pleasantries, annoyed evidently.

"Yeah. It's about Hope."

"I'm listening," Lightning quickly switched demeanours, her maternal side somehow trickling through.

She felt guilty about letting hope go through, back to the Cradle. It wasn't her fault, to be sure, but that didn't stop her blaming herself. And so, when the opportunity presented itself, she'd help.

"Me and NORA, we found a way to get to Cocoon," Asura chimed

"Tested it?"

"What'd you think?" Asura rolled her eyes, "`Course not, no way to."

"Sure you want to try it then?"

"Do we have a choice?" Asura insisted

"Guess not," Lightning paused, "How do you think you can get to Cocoon anyway?"

"You tell me."

Lightning didn't reply, rolling her eyes at Asura's bubbly voice.

"Give up?" the black-and-red haired woman didn't pause, "I'll make it simpler. Who, or what, do we know, that can get to Cocoon in a flash? Here's a clue: begins with 'S'."

"Sylph," Lightning stated

"Yep!"

"There are no more." Lightning sounded more depressed than irate

"That's what yo think."

"Tell me you're joking."

"Of course I am!" Asura giggled, "But they were the inspiration."

"Really?" Lightning seemed interested.

"Really," Asura promised, "You'll hear the rest when you get here."

Grinning, Asura disconnected and pocketed her phone.

Finally, finally, she could get around to rescuing her boyfriend, Hope. It wasn't that she didn't acre about Fang and Vanille, not by a long shot, but romance always took precedence.

Smiling, the woman turned and began to head down the streets, to NORA and the device which would allow them to not only reach Cocoon but, if it worked, let them return with another.


	43. Rejoined

**Sorry if this gets a little technical, I just didn't really see much more of a way to do it.  
In this chapter: the attempt at Hope's rescue, and a little happening in Death. Enjoy! **

Instantly gaining looks and respect, Lightning Farron confidently moved into the room.

On one wall, two booth-like boxes were set up, both covered in a confusing mass of flickering, colourful lights. Hung on the wall opposite them, three backpack style pairs of straps, with no actual pouch, rested. They too had small lights covering them, as well as some keypads.

NORA and Asura were between the two complex devices, the latter grinning up at Light.

"And what's this?" Lighting looked around, hood pooled over her shoulders.

"This, is how we're gonna get up there," Asura grinned, eager, pointing to Cocoon, "Want to hear all the tech stuff, or just wanna go?"

"You might regret hearing the details," Maqui advised, exclaiming with a laugh

"In that case, tell me," Lightning's gaze met Asura's eyes.

"Right," the woman paused, "Well, what can get to Cocoon easily? Sylph of course! They manage it with a flash, so why not use `em?"

"Please tell me there are no Sylph here," Lightning looked around the room, as if expecting one of the ghosts to hop out a drawer

"Nah," Asura shook her head, hair shaking around madly, "But we do have ex-Sylph, wandering the streets, all those ghosts. Went out and chatted to plenty, found out what the warping was like," Asura paused for breath, "You'll never guess who helped us the most," she paused imperceptibly, before barrelling on, "Roxy! Remember, she helped with the extraction: apparently, the Sylph told her something. Most of `em who never got back in control can't remember much of being a Sylph, and I never found any rebels, but guess what! Sylph told her when she was still human, they use what they call 'the light that is all places'." Asura grinned, worn out from her monologue

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Lightning raised her eyebrows

"Yeah, that takes a little explaining," Asura shrugged, "Did a bit of thinking, and it turns out the light was something to do with death: Sylph are ghosts after all. Plus we found a few recordings and measurements of the Sylph darting around like that… Yeah, so we figured out a way to get near the light." Asura's eyes darted around, a little nervous

"Don't ask any more," Yuj piped up

"Oh, hush you!" Asura pouted, "It's not that bad."  
Asura looked tentatively back at the pink haired soldier, who was simply standing there, eyebrows raised, expectant, foot tapping.

"Oh, all right," Asura slumped in defeat, "_Technically_," she paused, "We do have to kill you to get there, but still-" she was babbling, quickly, but Lightning still interrupted

"You are kidding." The soldier's voice was midways unconvinced and dry

"Not that bad, not that bad," Asura hurried on, "I did say 'technically'. Ok, you do _kind of _die, but it's not that bad. Really. Trick is, you bounce back in the place you want to be."

"Uh-huh…" Light was profoundly sceptical

"That's why you hide the details," Maqui shrugged, running his hands through his hair.

Rolling her eyes at Maqui's flippant remark, Lightning allowed her eyes to wander around the room. Perhaps now she could make sense of the gadgets and machinery.

She focused on the two booths along the wall; they looked important, but it was still hard to understand what was going on. She frowned, eyes continuing to survey the room, until she came across a little black smear on the sides of the booth.

"What's that?" she queried

"That, ah," Asura paused, "Just a fly."

"One they tried to warp," Lebreau added, satisfied, as she sipped a drink.

"First try!" Asura protested, "Before we got the hang of things. Got the locators now."

"I think you'd better explain," Lightning sat herself down on a spinning chair, looking at the still standing black-and-red haired woman.

"Right, Light" Asura paused, smiling at the rhyme, "Well the plan is, we go in those booths, they zap us to Cocoon. We find Hope, finally, and he gets brought back with us."

"Details," the soldier prompted

"Ok. So, those bands," Asura pointed to the set of three things that looked like backpack-straps, with no backpack, only a sheet of elastic joining the loops together. "I call them 'locators', just `cos it sounds good. Turns out, since we're still alive, we can't just warp around randomly. Seems we only stay in the other area for a few minutes. Then every atom gets yanked back to where it was, only at different rates; that's what happened to the fly. When we made the locators, they tie the thread of life all around us, so we get warped back whole. `K?"

"Not really," Lightning frowned

"I don't understand it either. Works though. Mostly. We'll both wear one warping over, then we'll put one on Hope, if we find him," Asura lifted up one of the locators; the elastic at the back of this one had a metal plate tightly fixed on it, the only one with such a detail.

With a little effort, Asura flipped the sheet of metal back, revealing a small glass vial, protected. Inside it, there was a light, a small bit of fruit, a water bottle, and a tiny little insect.

"For the thread of life," Asura shrugged, "We've tried things on a smaller scale. Seems to work."

A few seconds of silence allowed Lightning to look around the room again, now roughly understanding. The whole thing sounded complicated, but hopefully easy enough.

Those booths, there. They should be the way to Cocoon; to Sylph-warp into their old home. It was an odd irony, literally dying to return to the place which, when inhabited, had hunted them mercilessly.

Once there, they'd find Hope. Lightning did want to see him again, though not as much as Asura it seemed, but she was…nervous, afraid even.

They hadn't exactly parted on the bets of terms: Hope shouting at them, distraught by the loss of his father. He'd fled from them, as the Cradle dissolved, not to Pulse, as the others, but as far away from them as he could be.

Lightning let her eyes move across the room, to the three locators. It seemed she'd be going with Asura; well, Asura probably wouldn't manage it alone, even with all her skills, and two people were better than just one. More would probably be better, but those things couldn't be easy to make.

And Lightning had promised after all: to help Asura once she'd figured things out.

"One extra thing," Gadot quickly shouted, "You guys only have one go at this. Booths are only good for one use; and if Hope's survived this long, he won't for much longer. No food and water up there."

"No being so pessimistic!" Asura shouted, "But he's right. We need to go soon, please Claire."

"Light," the soldier corrected automatically. A few seconds later: "Yeah."

X

Fang and Vanille wandered along through the bare, ruined world of Death, beneath the stormy sky.

Recently, the clouds had begun to drizzle again, foreshadowing the torrential rain which was most likely to come, as it had before. There was less thunder and lightning though; the Eidolons were no longer attempting to cross the valley, and so there was no reason for there to be.

If they peered closely at the clouds however, though they blocked out the Sun, or whatever star hung up there, it was still bright. The light of the Maker were shining in the cloud; is she squinted, Vanille had made out a few sparkly, crystalline glimmers.

She was once again approaching.

"Are we there yet?" Vanille chirruped.

"Yes," Fang replied shortly

"Huh?" the redhead span around, swinging Fang's hand as she did so

"Don't ask if you know the answer," Fang smirked, smug.

Vanille pouted, before skipping ahead, alongside the striding raven haired woman.

The Gran Pulsians continued on their path, heading for Oerba, wherever that may be now Death had been cracked by the Maker. Their home village was somewhere, even if it didn't exist in this realm. Not to mention, the others were also heading there: Dajh, Cid, Bartholomew and Choco, and the Eidolons.

A long, long way below the duo, a crimson, metallic figure paused, as it reached the titanic face at the side of the valley. So much time had passed, as it recovered from landing on the ravine's floor, after being struck by lightning, before making its way, limping, struggling across the uneven ground. But now, now it was at the other side.

With what would have been a cry, a roar almost, of effort, had it a voice, the creature dug one of its many arms in the stone wall of the crack, not permitting itself to tire. Agonizingly slowly, in comparison to the depth of the gap, it began to ascend, gradually accelerating.

Vanille sighed, a little bored. More out of a search for something to do than anything, she let her hand wander until she pick-pocketed Etro's blue leaf from the fold in her drape where Fang kept it.

The redhead, almost reluctantly, withdrew her arm from around Fang's waist, cupping the leaf and peering at it.

Somehow, the eerie, dark blue was comforting. It was unusual as, generally, the appearance of it, when dwelt on, filled her with dread. Not because the leaf was bad or evil or anything like that: it had taken her a while to figure it out, but she'd realized it a while ago.

The leaf was associated with death, the end of life, and like all living beings, she had an instinctive fear of it. And yet, now, she could look at it, focus on it, without wanting to tear her eyes away.

The redhead didn't know what to feel. Was it a good thing she could look at an artefact of death without being repulsed? Or was she too close to dying herself?

Breathing shakily, Vanille turned the leaf over, with hands shivering from a sudden cold. Inscribed with an elegant hand, a curled, white line rested at an angle, on the leaf. Vanille peered closer, spinning the leaf somewhat. Despite the movement of the leaf, the line stayed in roughly the same place; facing the same way, save for a small blur-almost, as it moved back.

It took Vanille a moment to realize; it was an arrow! A message from someone, Etro maybe, written on the leaf, guiding them.

"Fang," Vanille squeaked, calling the raven haired woman.

The elder Gran Pulsian looked sideways, stopping. She walked up, peering at the leaf.

"Arrow, huh?" she murmured after a second.

A few seconds later, she stepped behind Vanille, wrapping her arms around the redhead. The younger woman squeaked suddenly.

"Need to be still," Fang whispered, breathless. She ran her hands up Vanille's shivering arms, quickly, but still slower than strictly necessary. Her tanned hands wrapped around Vanille's pale ones:" Your hands are cold," the elder Gran Pulsian whispered.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, Fang with her chin on Vanille's shoulder, arms tightly hugging Vanille's torso, legs pressing close, and hands wrapped tightly, warmly around the redhead's.

"You're shivering," Fang murmured huskily

"The _cold_," Vanille squeaked. A few seconds later she amended; "Mostly."

"Good," Fang chuckled by the redhead's ear, "Be still."

"Kinda hard with you in my ear."

Fang didn't answer, simply holding Vanille as she was for a few more moments. Then, caught up in a sudden gust of cold herself, Fang pressed closer, kissing Vanille's cheek.

"Thanks," the redhead giggled

"Still," Fang murmured, smiling, breath tickling Vanille's ear.

This time, the younger woman was able to obey. With the efforts of Fang holding on as well, Vanille's hands more or less stopped moving. Now all the natural tremors of the body, and the shaking the cold inspired, were stilled, the arrow was more pronounced, if only for a second.

Fang released Vanille, kissing her cheek again, before they linked arms. Guided by the thin arrow, they followed the direction it had pointed.

The journey was easy; the rain picked up a little, but nothing yet even close to the torrent of before. The Maker's light still shone from the clouds. Every now and then, the couple stopped, to embrace one another, and still the leaf, getting another hint as to where to go. Every time, the leaf kept them going in the same direction, to the same place: Oerba.

Several minutes later, they came to a halt. The crevasse was once again snaking in front of their path.

"You sure this is where we're going"? Vanille sighed

"Ask the leaf," Fang suggested, before pausing; "I can't believe I just said that."

Vanille giggled, holding the leaf out again.

The Gran Pulsians manoeuvred into the now-familiar position, Fang pressed closer to Vanille than was really needed; not just because of the chill overcoming both of them.

As the redhead stilled, the duo looked ahead. Yes, this gap was somewhat smaller than the others, about ten or so metres across. It got wider however, in both directions.

The arrow was definitely pointing straight across this segment of the ravine; the Gran Pulsians sighed together. Vanille pocketed the leaf, but fang didn't let go, wrapping her arms tighter around the redhead's waist.

"Learnt to fly yet?" Vanille chirruped

"Not yet," Fang chuckled, "You?"

"Nah."

A few more seconds passed. Fang kissed Vanille's cheek, before pulling away. The rain soaked the air between them.

"I think we have to jump," the raven haired Gran Pulsian murmured.

"Huh?" Vanille span around quickly, to face the elder woman's face, "That far? You're sure?"

"Don't see what else," Fang let her shoulders fall, "What's the worst that could happen? Can't exactly die again."

"Could! Could end up in one of the proper places of death, or we could die properly."

"Which would rid us of all this hassle," Fang waved her hand through the air, "Any better ideas?"

Fang stepped back a few paces, without waiting for an answer.

She saw something move out of the corner of her eye.

Freezing, Fang inhaled one long, deep breath, exhaling again, preparing herself. Then, without much time for thought, she began to sprint forwards, foot touching the very tip of the ground, the corner millimetres before the sheer drop, ad leapt…

She was flying through the air; several metres covered quickly, arms reaching forwards, losing all grace after several seconds, and still-

She'd gone less than half the distance when she realized she didn't stand a chance. Oerba Yun Fang fell, feet passing ground level with well over five metres still to go.

Vanille let out a cry.

And-

Something hard, metallic, crimson rammed into her back. Fang had just enough time to quickly peer sideways, seeing a blurred, streamlined, flame-red face leaning into the wind, the opposite side of which was Vanille, held up by something, arms maybe: Fang could feel several limbs gripping her form, as the being thrust itself through the air, incredibly fast, barely descending at all.

Lightning struck down, blistering heat cascading over the being, which somehow used its own body to shield Fang and Vanille from the bolt.

A split second later, they crossed over and landed, rolling, on the other side of the gap.

"Hecta!" Vanille squealed, hopping up. She gave their rescuer a huge hug.

It was her Eidolon, Hecatoncheir. Blackened by lightning, and covered in dust and dirt and mud, from a crawl along the valley floor, and a hasty climb up the ravine wall.

Such a struggle, but he had dedicated himself long ago to his caller, Vanille. To aid and to serve, even more so when reintroduced by Etro herself.

Hecatoncheir bowed his head, respectful, before wearily toppling over, limbs falling flat on the ground. Worn out would be putting it mildly; few things had ever been through such an ordeal.

"Thanks Hecta," Fang muttered, using Vanille's pet name for the Eidolon.

The redhead crooned softly, tenderly stroking down his crimson face.

With the satisfaction of having saved them, Hecatoncheir closed his eyes, enormously tired. He would awake, sometime. But until then, he needed sleep.

Far, far above, the lights in the clouds brightened, and the rain grew harsher.

X

"You're sure this is safe?" Lightning muttered, sitting in one of the booths.

"No!" Asura called back cheerily.

Lightning wasn't as concerned with her own safety as it sounded, but the machine did look worryingly lethal. Though it apparently was supposed to send her close to death, it looked like it would happily over-perform.

Gothic looking patterns of metal and electrodes covered the wall opposite her; and as she watched, sitting in her chair, back pressed against a flat metal wall, it moved steadily closer.

One of the locators was wrapped around her; one hoop over each shoulder, and elastic over her back. Asura carried the spare one for Hope.

The wall drew nearer, one of the wires touching Lightning's shoulder and singing her cloak. Lightning looked at the damage disbelievingly.

A moment of agony overcame her; just a moment, a lot less than a second, but it was everywhere, every bit of skin, every bit of tissue inside her body.

The booth which once contained her fell apart, as the wall which once moved towards Lightning literally exploded. An instant later, the same happened to Asura's.

"I hope that means it worked," Maqui murmured, surveying the rubble of the booths. The two women were nowhere to be seen.

"We'll see, when they come back," Lebreau muttered, "Now, you lot! Get that stuff out the way, they're going to be returning to that spot, and we don't want them landing in a mess."  
An incredibly long way away, Lightning and Asura reappeared, in a twinkle, a diamond flash of light. They looked at each other, only just gasping in reaction to the pain they'd previously experienced.

"Orphan's Cradle," Asura said, "First place to look, first place he arrived," the black-and-red haired woman looked around. He wasn't there.

"Oh," she said suddenly, before Lightning could move, "And keep an eye on your locator. The light on it, when it goes red, it'll start dimming. When it goes out, you get warped back, your thread of life pulling. Don't let that happen please, we can't build any more in time."

Lightning nodded, understanding, before they both left the room.

Hope was out here somewhere; somewhere on this shell, somewhere in this city hopefully. But crystal blocked out most of the Sun, and looking was harder than it should ever be.

"Hope!" Asura shouted in desperation.

There was no reply. The two women continued to walk down the abandoned street, shouting every now and then, soon breaking into a run. As they passed the first corner, Asura let out a muttered curse.

"What is it?" Lightning quickly looked sideways

"The locator," the black-and-red haired woman plucked the metallic strap. The blue lights on her shoulder had already gone red. "We've only got a couple of minutes before the light goes out," she pursed her lips, "Thread's stretched too far. Never sent anything going this far away before. Can't stay as long as I'd hoped."

"You're sure?" Lightning frowned, gesturing to the spare locator Asura carried: the light was still blue.

"Ah!" Asura let out a breath, "Smaller life form, less energy pulling on the thread. That's good," she grinned. "A little more time."

As she finished that sentence, the final blue light flickered to red.

"You go that way," Lightning pointed down one street, before setting off at a run, in the opposite direction.

The pink haired soldier sprinted on, shouting out Hope's name. She heard Asura do the same, until the woman left hearing range.

Why did Cocoon have to be so big? It was a whole world. Somewhere around here, hopefully, Hope stood or sat or something. Somewhere; if he was still alive. Etro had apparently helped; but her definition of help was also sending Eidolons after l'Cie to kill them. So Lightning didn't have much faith in that.

The soldier let out one more shout. Still no reply from the silver haired man who lurked here somewhere. Damn. Lightning kept on running, shouting, searching madly. One more chance, Asura had said: well, the soldier hoped, maybe Asura had found him.

"Hope!" the pink haired woman cried out.

A quick sideways glance; the red light was dimming, less than half as bright as it used to be.

A weak groan caught the soldier's keen ear. Pause. Lightning span around, seeing a glimmer of silver. In her mind, she deliberated her actions for a split second; she didn't have long left here. Was it Hope?

She decided to test her theory; she wouldn't find him easily otherwise. She ran over to the ancient house.

Indeed, Hope Estheim lay there, moaning from hunger, throat parched with thirst. It couldn't have been easy surviving up here.

"Hope," Lightning knelt down, shaking him fully into consciousness, "Hope, oh thank the Maker," Lightning paused a moment, considering the irony of the phrase. Maybe she could change that idiom.

"Light…" Hope murmured, squinting up at her

"Yeah," the soldier nodded, almost maternal, before swearing; Asura had the other locator! Lightning couldn't help Hope, at least, not directly.

"C'mon," the soldier prompted, "Feel up to a run? We haven't got much time."

"`K," Hope struggled to even say that syllable, throat so dry.

"Follow me," Lightning kept a tight grip on the boy's hand, pulling him most of the way.

The light on her locator was almost out.

"Bear with me," the soldier spoke rapidly, "Asura figured out a way to wrap to Cocoon, but not for long. This contraption I've got on, it makes sure I get taken back; Asura has a third, you need to use it! We're not going to stay here much longer, got that? The third thing though, it'll lay around for a bit. Find it and _put it on_, you have to. Last chance we have."

Lightning inhaled deeply. Hope didn't get a chance to interrupt; and he didn't really want to. Things had taken on a dreamlike state; surreal, inconsequential. After days of nothing, no food or water, and now being dragged through the city by his once-adoptive-mother. And he was struggling to breathe; this was more exertion than his weakened body could take.

Lightning's locator beeped. She looked at it; the light was almost out.

"Quickly," she prompted, pushing Hope forwards as they reached the intersection where she'd split away from Asura; "She's down there, somewhere."

Lightning felt the light of the locator engulf her; but not before she saw Hope stumbling forwards, shouting out for Asura. And maybe, just maybe, she heard a response.

A moment of agony.

She hit the ground back at the NORA shelter _hard_. Panting a little from tiredness she'd suppressed on the shell in the sky, the soldier crawled away, to the side of the room.

Half a second later, Asura appeared. She looked around the room hastily, peering under tables as if Hope could be hiding there.

"I left the locator," Asura mumbled, slumping on the wall by Lightning, "Won't be there much longer. Few more seconds. But I think I heard him."

"You did," Lightning smiled, relieved to hear she hadn't imagined it, "I found him, sent him running after you."

"Good," Asura closed her eyes, visibly shaking from the stress. "I hope he gets back."

Roughly eleven seconds, probably just under, ticked past. Asura screwed her eyes shut, a small curl of a tear sneaking past her eyelid.

A glimmer of light appeared in the centre of the room. Asura let her eyes open, wide, moist.

It expanded to a diamond, quite a large diamond, covered in a soft, iridescent mist, illuminating the room. The process that normally took a fraction of a fraction of a second was drawn out, more by their minds than anything.

But it soon ended, as all things must. It drew inwards, vanishing with one last twinkling.

The locator fell onto the floor, with quite a powerful movement, yanked dangerously hard by the thread of life which called it back.

Wearing it back to front, panting, breathing heavily, Hope Estheim lay. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, blinking as if he couldn't quite believe it was real.

Asura ran up to him, kneeling beside him and passionately pressed her lips to his. The two both closed their eyes, surrendering to the blissful, rekindled contact.


	44. Devotion

**We're nearing the end. I am allowed to be evil with cliffhangers. Just think I should say that.  
Sorry about this update taking so long. I'm hoping the next chapter won't be as long, but we'll see.  
In any case, please review, and hope you enjoy! **

Fang and Vanille trailed behind the limping figure of Hecatoncheir. The Eidolon moved slowly onwards, struggling to move his weakened, blackened form.

"He went through so much for us," Vanille murmured slowly, looking admiringly up at her Eidolon.

"Not for us," Fang shook her head, "This is bigger than us. You know it is."

"Huh?" Vanille squeaked, looking at Fang, amazed, "You're passing up the chance to be the centre of events?"

"Yeah," the Gran Pulsian laughed, "I suppose I am."

The redhead squeezed Fang's hand, a gesture of comfort in the pouring rain.

Death was still off balance, the ripples emanating from Fang and Vanille disturbing all around them. From this, water fell from the sky in a torrent, thick, black clouds blocking out so much of the Sun it would seem like night if not for veins of Maker-light in the clouds.

The occasional blue sparkle lit in the clouds, never for more than a second. The light of Etro: the Goddess could do little to interfere without doing more harm than good, but she could keep an eye on the emerging Maker. If nothing else.

There wasn't much time left. The energy used for cracking the world had weakened Her for a while, but now She had recovered. The Maker was again straining against her bindings.

A moment of focus.

In Death, many were wondering around, milling aimlessly. The hordes of the once-Sylph, crowds, now split into smaller groups. The occasional one travelled alone: they searched for their way to deeper-death, past this Limbo. Many had found it; many had not.

One of these Limbo-marooned once-Sylph was touched by the Maker. Her long, silver hair and dark skin was lost with that touch; body simply fading.

Something else flew away, from where she once stood.

A distance away, Fang held Vanille close, in a sudden embrace. The cold had overcome them. The redhead shivered into the warm, yet shaking, body of the elder Gran Pulsian, breathing gently.

"You cold too?" Fang murmured, lightly running a hand through Vanille's smooth hair.

"Mm," the redhead didn't speak, her teeth chattering.

They stood there for several moments more, Vanille closing her eyes to snuggle into Fang's soft shoulder. The raven haired woman rested her head on top of the redhead, not quite closing her eyes.

Hecatoncheir watched, amused. He stepped away, leaving the two in sight and reach, but more alone.

"Don't move," Fang whispered suddenly, urgently.

"Huh?" Vanille squeaked. She opened her eyes; and froze.

It was flying past. Just one, 'arms' outstretched either side, as it glided gracefully through the air, unconcerned by the Gran Pulsians it passed.

Gently, eerily perfectly, the creature flew until it left their sight.

It was, quite unmistakably, a Sylph.

"They're back," Vanille squeaked, reluctant to even admit it.

"Looks like it," Fang muttered grimly. "Wonder why?"

"It's Her, isn't it?"

"Don't see who else," Fang pursed her lips, shaking only partly because of the cold.

"It's our fault…" Vanille sighed.

The raven haired woman extricated herself from the redhead's embrace, resting her hands on the younger's shoulders. Vanille's dull eyes were moved to face Fang's orbs.

"Stop blaming yourself," her voice was clear, "Just stop it. If you have to blame anyone, blame me, or better yet, blame the damn Maker for starting this in the first place," Fang inhaled, "It isn't your fault, `k?"

"Ok," Vanille looked down.

Still not satisfied, Fang looped her arm over Vanille's shoulder, warding off the chill. They slowly began to move on, struggling not for any physical reason, but because of the cloying air, the heat being drained from them, and the shrinking motivation.

Surely Lightning had spoken to Etro by now. What was keeping them here? Were they doomed to keep wandering?

"Are we there yet?" Vanille chirped after a minute or so. Fang rolled her eyes.

It was quite some minutes later when Hecatoncheir at last stumbled. The Gran Pulsians rushed up to him, ducking until a long, metallic limb. The Eidolon was weary' unsurprisingly, but he'd been suppressing it for too long. He fell straight to the ground.

"We'll stop here then," Fang stated after a little while, walking up to the figure. She sat, cross-legged, between two curled arms.

Vanille chirruped sadly, sitting the same side of the Eidolon as Fang, but closer to the Eidolon's head. She ran her dainty hand down the side of its cool, metallic mask-like face.

Her red hair was reflected in Hecatoncheir's eye. He looked sideways, straining to move, to help more, but had almost no energy to do so.

"Stop straining yourself," Fang muttered. Vanille nodded her agreement.

Flat on the ground, Hecatoncheir gave no sign he'd heard, though he did stop attempting to move.

Far across the sparse grass of Limbo, more twinkles of light were descending from the clouds, a rain of them, a flood, spreading. They kept their distance from those who'd be suspicious of them-Fang, Vanille, Cid, Choco, Bartholomew, Dajh and the Eidolons-but everywhere else, they multiplied.

As common as dust, a storm of them rolled over the place where the capital stood in Life. A sudden roll, so much effort put into the one move. The gathering of people there looked up suddenly, surprised at the sudden appearance of the light. And then, of the ex-Sylph who'd thrown off the Maker's control and remembered what it signified, they began to flee. Those who did not know what the light was simply stood there; awed by the flood. But as it neared them, an incandescent mass, they too began to back away.

It was too late for them, and they were swallowed up. An instant later, and Sylph appeared, the Maker's harpies. With cries and caws, they flew. Several revelled in Her joy at regaining control, while others served Her. They picked up the fleeing ex-Sylph by the shoulders, the arms, the legs, or barrelled them over, or barricaded the way ahead with their own body, or distracted them. The ex-Sylphs lowed under the torment of the new Sylph: and one by one, many fell into the Maker's light storm.

One kept fleeing, stumbling on until she ducked into a cave. She could remember; so many dark centuries under the control of that light. The memories haunted her mind. But so long as the light didn't reach her… She ran on further into the cave until-

Another light illuminated the interior. She stiffened. And yet, somehow the illumination put her at ease, despite the fact it should terrify her.

Maybe it was the shade; instead of a stark white, a gentle blue shone from the cavern. The ex-Sylph tentatively stepped closer, the light coming into focus.

It was a ring, the outline of a perfect circle, etched with brilliant blue in the air.

"Beyond lies true death," a divine woman's kindly voice resounded from the ring. The ex-Sylph looked around before, without a second thought, leaping through the circle.

Thus, Etro's subtle resistance to the onslaught of the Maker's continued, one less Sylph slave.

The maelstrom of Maker-light found itself extinguished after a few dozen more metres; all humans, save for those saved by Etro in secret, were Sylph. And a little way ahead, such a flare would be seen by those the Maker wished to hide from.

Fang and Vanille, by Her plan, were unaware. They wandered on, towards what was in life, Oerba: but in Limbo, it was just emptiness. A blank plain.

Hecatoncheir limped onwards; now acting recovered. He wasn't healed, not by a long way; time wouldn't cure the strain he'd put himself through, but he could act it. Guide the Chosen to Oerba, to their friends.

"This place looks familiar," Fang noted, looking around

"Yeah, does, doesn't it?" Vanille responded, shivering. Fang pulled her closer, with an arm over the redhead's shoulders.

"Wonder why," Fang mused

"Are you joking again?" Vanille giggled

"Huh?"

"It's Oerba!" the redhead gestured around, "River over there, valley there…"

Fang's eyes widened; "How'd I miss that?"

"Dunno," Vanille murmured, half-scared for a split second, before snuggling closer to the raven haired woman.

They moved on, a steady hike over ground spattered with puddles, rain still pouring; even though it occasional fell to a trickle, it never stopped.

Just then, Hecatoncheir stopped where he was. No fanfare, the Eidolon just halted.

His crimson, metallic frame was spattered with rain, droplets splashing and cascading off his sleek body. They dripped to the floor, pooling around his tapered legs.

"Hecta?" Vanille tilted her head, moving closer, "You ok?"

The Eidolon did not move. Like a statue, he remained, impassive in the torrent. The Maker-lights in the sky looked down and cursed; but did nothing, for they didn't want to waste any more energy. She was so close already…

A small, blue creature bounded up to Vanille. The redhead looked down; Fang stepped back.

It was a feline of some sort; a golden mask set on its face, and outlining its piercing eyes.

"Kirin?" Fang identified, frowning, "That means-"

"Hey guys!" Dajh's voice carried across the air, through the rain.

"Dajh!" Vanille hopped on the spot, waving, "You're here!"

"We noticed," Cid remarked dryly.

Dajh rode atop Choco, leading the rest of the group, Bartholomew and Cid, towards them. Cid had, on his shoulder, an icy representation of the Mist Dragon's face; little more than a sketch of frost. Trailing behind them, almost shyly, was the great Eidolon Bahamut.

Fang frowned at her Eidolon. Dajh looked at her eyes, following them to the dragon, before butting in; "He feels ashamed, apparently. Hecatoncheir was small enough and nimble enough to make it across to you, through the storm. He couldn't."

"Now you listen," Fang strode straight past the, to her Eidolon, "Don't you dare feel sorry, Hecatoncheir was struggling to stand on the journey here, and we could do without you doing the same. You did all you could; what else you expect to manage?"

Abashed, Bahamut bowed his head. Vanille giggled, hopping up and giving the Eidolon a big hug, straining to get her arms around the cool metal of his lower body.

Bahamut looked strangely embarrassed by this; and the redhead bit back laughter at the expression, so out-of-place on the face of the dragon.

"So, how'd you get here?" Vanille strove to begin a conversation

"We walked," Cid responded before anyone else could

"Come on!" Fang rolled her eyes, "You didn't used to be so dry."

"Four hundred years. One needs some survival method after that," Cid replied curtly. "Carry on."

Despite his instruction, the bleak words paused the exchange. A few more seconds ticked past, Maker-light in the clouds swelling, before they spoke again.

"It's not that much of a long story," Dajh began, "We just wondered. Got our own blue leaf now too!" he withdrew in from his pocket, checking the text and, upon seeing that there was no change, he twirled it and pocketed it again. "The Eidolons helped; Hecatoncheir leapt over into the crack, struggling along to help you, in case you didn't know to come here. That's about all. Nothing too dramatic."

The Gran Pulsians were about to respond, when Cid let out a wordless shout.

His eyes pointed frantically to something in the distance before he could lift his hand; the others turned. It was a Sylph, just one, but one shooting straight for them. Strangely, it didn't warp with a customary light; perhaps it was unable to in Death.

Just steps away, it crashed into a blank mirror of ice. Cid blinked, looking at his shoulder, surprised.

The Mist Dragon had flung herself off him, face morphing in the air. She took in the pouring rain, to strengthen herself. Then, lightning fast, it had completed the action; creating a shield of ice, reflective like a mirror.

She strained, curled around the Sylph suddenly. It was tougher than normal due to the amount of external rains he'd absorbed; real veins of ice running through the ice of her body. The latter she could control, the former she could not.

A second later, and the Sylph attacker was contained within a hollow sphere of ice.

The Eidolons were immediately on guard; Bahamut watchful, Kirin skipping in circles around them, almost eager, and even Hecatoncheir was readying himself, should any more Sylph arrive.

The Maker had decided: things were going to end soon. The Chosen were a thorn; she did not want them to become Sylph for her, for they could no doubt regain their senses. Instead, they would have to be forced away, and She could manage that easily with the help of the souls she already commanded.

Etro could only watch, nearly totally helpless, restrained by the laws of the world, as the Maker readied Herself.

"I forgot how much the Eidolons were willing to do," Dajh murmured absent-mindedly.

"Mm," Vanille nodded slowly, agreeing, as she looked at their guardians.

O

"You're sure you're feeling better?" Asura leant keenly across the table

"Yeah, `course Asura," Hope replied, with an amused smile; "How worried were you? You don't have to ask so much."

"I do," she murmured to herself. "Enjoying dinner?"

"Yep," Hope grinned.

He'd spent a lot of time recently, simply eating. He couldn't eat too much upon his immediate return, his body being unused to it, so he simply ate little, and often, and drank a lot of water; thirst quenching drinks.

The immediate adjustment to life on Gran Pulse was harder than he'd expected; he hadn't realized how much he'd grown to being used to being alone. Sometimes, he fond himself searching for Halyard, sometimes for Rhoswen; both thoughts filling him with regret. Not only that, but Lightning had revealed who she really was; from there, the press had done the rest. The world knew his real identity. Get decent, secluded seats in almost any restaurant in the world; like they had just then.

He wasn't complaining; he hated deception, but it took quite a while to adapt to.

In any case, it let him and Asura

"You don't mind?" Asura tilted her head

"About what?" Hope said over a mouthful of pasta

"We're helping Fang and Vanille," Asura spoke semi-shyly

"No," Hope put his spoon down, swallowing his food, "I went mad before, sorry. It wasn't their fault, besides, you want to help them right?"  
"Sure," Asura nodded, smiling at her memories

"Then why would I say no?" Hope grinned cheekily. Asura laughed.

The silver haired man's face fell: "That, and one other thing."

"What?" Asura tilted her head, frowning curiously

"I met Halyard, on Cocoon."

"H- oh," Asura paused, feeling ineffectual, "I'm sorry Hope."

"Don't be," Hope shrugged, giving an empty smile, "I think I needed it."

"Still…" Asura trailed off.

They ate in silence for a few more seconds. Hope paused occasionally, to look up at Asura.

"What is it?" she murmured after a few of Hope's looks

"Nothing," he replied, "Just wondering."

"What?"

"How far are you with helping them?"

"Them?" Asura frowned before, before Hope could reply, nodding; "Fang and Vanille, right. I honestly have no idea."

Sighing, Asura twirled her spoon, playing with her dish of food before gulping down a mouthful.

A few seconds passed before Hope frowned and looked up. He let Asura swallow her food before speaking:

"What do you mean you don't know? Is she keeping her distance, or-"

"Nah," Asura shook her head hurriedly, chuckling, "Nothing like that. Just the state of things, no one knows how far anyone is. Like, light talked to Etro a little while ago; supposed to be the key, but still no closer."

Hope ran his fingers back through his silver hair in irritation.

Now he was down from Cocoon, he'd expected things to be easier. Back to normal; stupid him. He should've known, nothing was normal now. He half-expected Fang and Vanille to be back by the time he returned; as if things would resolve themselves in his absence. He sighed again, biting back a curse.

"I wish I could talk to her," Hope murmured

"Who?" Asura tilted her head, "Vanille?"

"Lightning," he corrected, "I was on Cocoon a lot of time. Came up with a lot of plans to get out of that wasteland, some of them might be adapted, stranger things have happened. I haven't got any better ideas."

"You can, if you want," Asura nimbly withdrew a phone from her pocket, throwing it up a little way before catching it. A few seconds passed before she continued; "Say, did you hear anything from Etro up there?"

"Not much," Hope frowned, "She said one thing, but it was about something else. I saw Fang and Vanille, a window into Death."

"What was it?" Asura leant forwards, suddenly eager.

"Just 'interference'. More to do with the portal; it slammed shut."

"Oh…" Asura sighed, crestfallen.

A mouthful of food later, and she perked up, blowing a kiss across the table to Hope. She dropped her phone onto the table, closer to Hope, just behind her plate, as well as depositing a handful of gil.

"Need to go, really sorry," she slumped, taking out a buzzing cube from her pocket, "Bunch of people are tracking Fang and Vanilles' ghosts. I'm on watch duty, and they've been sighted. Really, sorry," she pocketed the cube.

"Don't worry," Hope shrugged, "They're more important than me."

Asura quietly, confidently walked around the table. She rested a hand gently on Hope's shoulder, little finger brushing the base of his neck.

"Don't ever say that," she whispered softly.

With that, she paced away, leaving the restaurant quickly.

Slowly, semi-reluctantly, Hope ate a few more spoonfuls of his meal. Time ticked past.

He was angry with himself. Look what he'd done! In a foolish rage, he'd stomped away from the group, oh so long ago, stranding himself. They'd risked so much, wasted so much time trying to help him; at the expense of Fang and Vanille. He just wasn't worth that.

If only there was some way to help…

Interference. Etro had quite clearly said 'interference': but why? It couldn't have any more meanings than the obvious, really. But if it did.

Etro couldn't interfere; NORA had explained a lot of the situation, how Fang and Vanille, still alive when in Death, were destabilizing everything. If Etro could interfere there, she would.

So, did she need some sort of special pass to interfere? Was that it? Or something else entirely?

Hidden meanings! That had to be it, if there were no hidden meanings, then they had nothing to go on. So, there's a plan. The silver haired man reached over the table, picking up the phone.

"Hey Light," he whispered into it, keeping his voice down, unheard by the rest of the restaurant, "It's me, Hope."

He closed his eyes, tired, but intent on focusing, helping.

"Thanks," he eventually replied into Asura's mobile, "I want to help though. Please, what did Etro say to you? You know, when you saw her? Word for word if you can. It _has _to mean something."

He let his frustrations pour out over the speaker. Gently though, he nodded, as he heard Lightning's recitation. A little way in, his eyes opened and widened: "Say that again."

A few seconds later, he broke into a grin.

"Light, Etro said one thing to me," he was breathless, "'Interference'. I thought it was about something else, but think about what you just said. If they're really there, it has to work!"

His grin broadened as he heard Lightning's response to his plan.

"Yeah," his face fell, "But we need a fal'Cie."

A few more seconds passed, before Hope grinned again. "You said, Etro spoke to her. Shemhazai right? This is what Etro had in mind, she planned this, she sent Shemhazai… Wow."

Hope eventually spoke in greater detail, cupping his hand over the speaker to avoid any eavesdroppers.

And so it came to pass, the very next day, in Old Oerba, almost the whole group stood. Lightning was in the centre of the circle, with Serah slowly walking away. Around the soldier, Snow stood, arm around his fiancée. Sazh was a few steps away, still a little unsteady after Dajh's demise. Asura stood alone opposite Sazh, and Shemhazai was behind Lightning, wings spread fully.

Hope was not there. Lightning said it was part of the plan, but she hadn't said any more.

They were in Oerba; the Oerba of Fang and Vanille's time. It was desolate, in ruins, but still inspired awe. Even if it was in such a bad state of repair, it still filled them with hope. Oerba had lasted this long; maybe Fang and Vanille would too.

Shemhazai stepped forwards, breaking the ring around Lightning. Her feathered wings rustled, and she lifted a maroon hand, gently touching Lightning's bare forearm.

"You're certain?" Shemhazai whispered. Lightning nodded.

A cool light began to emanate from beneath Shemhazai's hand. It spread, until the sphere encompassed the whole of Lightning's forearm. Concentration, frowns, wracked Shemhazai's so often impassive metal face, until-

The fal'Cie stepped away, doing a back-flip, before hastily fleeing, wings spread wide, gliding smoothly through the air.

"One breath," Lightning said the words with an almost-reverence, shivering. Gently, she exhaled.

More light formed from the air, an impressive display. Magic was such a mild word for it; the gleam was so, so much more. It was beauty at its grandest level, not for how it looked, but for the promise of what would happen.

Instead of joy however, the watching ex-l'Cie fell into a stony silence. This was not what should have happened: it couldn't be.

Lightning was crystal.

The crystal woman stood there for a long few seconds. Light cascaded through her transparent form, soon fading, like the hopes and dreams of the saviours of Cocoon.

Shemhazai again soared over them. The fal'Cie moved quickly away; but not before dropping a last spell.

The crystal melted away. Lightning Farron, the pink haired soldier within, took an unsteady step forward, looking around.

"Did- did it work?" she frowned

"Did what work?" Serah asked, tilting her head, voice quavering

"The, the-" Lightning was stuttering, from exertion and confusion more than anything. Panic crossed her face: "I can't remember," she quickly said, stunned.

"No wonder," Sazh let his hands fall, somewhat violently, to his sides. "Trust a fal'Cie, and this is what you get. She's taken your memories."

"I know," Lightning pursed her lips, gradually becoming more secure. She looked around at the group, before pronouncing the sentence which cemented the event as fact. "Shemhazai betrayed us."


	45. Final Awakening

**So...  
Hope you enjoy the quicker update (but somehow longer chapter). I've been writing this close to non-stop. Please review if you like it! There's not much more.  
Most importantly though: Enjoy! **

"Are you sure I didn't tell any of you?" Lightning span around desperately, "Do _none _of you know the plan?"

"No," Snow shook his head, "You said you were in too much of a rush."

"_Dammit_," the soldier swore.

A little time ticked past. Lightning unconsciously stroked the white, burnt out l'Cie brand on her arm.

Oerba had once been a city of joy; Fang and Vanille had told them that much. People loved it here, safe from the untamed beasts outside by its guardian fal'Cie Anima, and with such effort put into buildings and other such constructions.

Since then, things had been going downhill. Time had taken its toll, pulling even the grandest house down; and now, it was the site of failure. An attempt to call the Chosen back to life. And Shemhazai had betrayed them.

"Are you sure you can't remember anything?" Asura insisted; "There has to be _something_."

"There's not," Lightning responded flatly.

The small exchange was over. Silence again reigned.

"So, what do we know?" Snow tried to recreate conversation.

"Nothing," Lightning cast her eyes down to the ground. She felt useless, worse than useless.

"Where's NORA?" Serah interjected suddenly, playing with her small, cat earrings.

"Nowhere," Asura responded before Snow could get a word in; "They went looking for Hope."

A sigh of dismay escaped Lightning's lips. No one was here. No one was coming. NORA and Hope had fled. Then, a voice. Maqui's.

"Don't start without us!" the boy's shout carried over, into the centre of Oerba.

His silver hair shone in the sunlight, making him immediately obvious once he moved from being hidden behind the houses. The rest of NORA, Yuj, Gadot and Lebreau, followed the hyperactive youth.

After a few seconds, they reached the circle of people. NORA seeped into the space between Snow and Asura, all facing the central Lightning.

"What'd we miss?" Gadot frowned, looking around at the group.

"Too much," Serah murmured.

"Huh?" the thick-set man looked sharply at her

"Shemhazai came and went," the younger Farron replied softly, "She branded Claire, then flew away, and now we know she took Claire's memories, including the plan."

"Hope," Lightning said suddenly; "We need Hope. He knows the plan."

"Not gonna have much luck there," Lebreau shook her head

"What? Why?" Asura quickly span, to glare at the black haired woman

"He's- ah, he just can't." Lebreau appeared downcast.

The pink haired soldier peered through the air, leering at Lebreau. Lightning's hands continued rubbing her own forearm, where the sore brand lay. Something was wrong.

"And really?" Lightning eventually spoke, her tone measured

"Don't know what you mean," Yuj cut in

"Yes you do," the soldier rolled her eyes, "I can see when you're lying. Years of training."

"Oh, alright," Lebreau regained control of the conversation, "He's not coming because he doesn't want to."

Mostly silence greeted her words; save for a sudden from Asura. The black and red haired woman tensed, face shocked.

"He wouldn't…" she murmured, dismayed.

"`Fraid so," Lebreau shrugged, "He looked all flustered at us being there, then he just said he wasn't interested."

"So it wasn't to do with the plan," Snow punched his own palm, "He's still angry."

"He can't be, though," Asura quickly spoke up, "He told me."

"Could be lying. People lie," Sazh muttered.

"Not him," Asura shook her head resolutely.

As the woman went on to explain in quite some detail why Hope wasn't lying, telling them of Cocoon and Halyard, Lightning withdrew into herself.

She stopped paying attention to them, focusing and thinking. Would it be possible for her to recall the plan, not by trying to remember, but by putting the pieces together from what she could remember?

Start from the beginning. Sylph. They were once everywhere; ghosts of those that they'd lost. They'd killed Dajh when the Maker was closer, but before that… Lightning's face strained as she struggled to remember. It was like trying to pick up water; constantly flowing out of her grip.

But there was something about it lingering there, a frayed edge. As if her mind was a fabric, the gaps holes; threads remained, suggestions of an idea. Something about her sister…

Thinking of Serah, there was one thing that didn't add up.

"Serah?" Lightning murmured, as Asura finished her explanation.

"Yeah?" the pink haired woman tilted her head, frowning.

"Did you and Snow ever, you know, get married?" the soldier frowned, doing her best not to sound too encouraging.

Silence greeted her question.

"Sis," Snow murmured, "We did, ages ago."

"Before Dajh," Sazh interrupted.

Lightning frowned; "I remember something then. Just…not that."

"By the Maker," Lebreau swore, "How much did Shemhazai take?"

"Too much," a distressed Serah murmured, aghast.

Lightning looked away. She felt ashamed; fal'Cie or not, she shouldn't forget her own sister's wedding. The thought alone shook her to the core.

Had she really allowed Shemhazai to touch her? Let alone brand her. Looking back, her old self seemed like a stranger; the plan was unknown, and on that unknown idea, she'd lost her memories. Who knew how much? How were you to know what you'd forgotten?

Even Fang and Vanille: she remembered she was supposed to save them, an odd memory to keep, all things considered, but she remembered no details. Only a very vague sense of friendship; but nothing else.

What did they look like?

Lightning cringed at her internal question. She shouldn't ask the others that. It was too much to tell them: she remembered next to nothing about the Pulsians.

"How much do you, um, remember Claire?" Serah asked, nervous, as if she should feel guilty for wondering.

"A lot," an expression of doubt passed along the soldier's face, appearing almost alien, "I think. How do I know what I've forgotten?"

"Good point," Serah sighed, "What can you remember?"

"A lot," Lightning remarked dryly

"Like?" Serah paused, frowning to show she was going to continue.

A few seconds later, the younger, pink haired Farron spoke: "How old were you when Mum died?" her voice wobbled a little as she asked the question, but Serah knew it was one thing Lightning would never willingly forget.

The pink haired soldier frowned for a split second, before replying confidently: "Fifteen."

Serah nodded, face smiling even if her lips were unable to, at the topic.

"Why are we playing twenty-questions?" Sazh interrupted, a touch of a smile brushing the face which had been frozen in a frown since the death of his son

"To see how much she's lost," Serah murmured, almost afraid of the words; "Claire," the Farron sister paused, thinking, "What did Amodar say when he promoted you?"

"He said," Lightning paused. "I…I don't know," the soldier shook her head quickly, closing her eyes for a moment too long.

"Again," Serah sighed, "What did I get you for your 21st birthday?"

"A- a…" Lightning scowled; "Why can't I remember that?"

The soldier whispered a curse towards Shemhazai closing her eyes in hopeless irritation. She'd forgotten almost everything she thought of as precious.

"Everything happy," Lightning murmured, skimming through what she could remember, "I can't remember anything happy."  
The news rippled out like a shockwave. Her simple, lifeless statement spread, touching all the listening minds.

"That's horrible," Yuj mumbled to himself.

There didn't seem to be anything else to say.

Serah shuddered. Snow frowned. Asura shook. Sazh closed his eyes. Gadot tensed. Yuj exhaled. Maqui widened his eyes. Lebreau looked down.

Around them the air started to shimmer.

Lightning's eyes widened; she looked up, around, expression torn between something akin to betrayal, and utter desperation.

The air was filled of tiny little dots; specks of light, as if cut from crystal. The lights which had shone so long ago, on Cocoon as they rushed towards Orphan, and those which glimmered when Dajh had died, and when they'd rushed, weeks ago, for Orphan's Cradle.

The lights of the Maker.

"No," Lightning shook her head, shaking, "No, not now. Not now!" the last two words were emitted as an inchoate shriek.

Around her, just around the soldier, a glyph appeared in the air; a glyph of blinding light.

She'd seen the symbol before; Vile Peaks. When she'd called forth Odin for the first time.

Her loss of hope had called her Eidolon.

X

Fang and Vanille huddled close to one another, shivering in the cold, as the lights of the Maker shone around them, like a rainstorm of searing light, only ascending rather than falling.

"She's close," the redhead murmured, afraid, shivering.

"You noticed," Fang chuckled sardonically. The raven haired woman pulled the younger closer, running her fingers through her pigtails; "It's cold though."

"Freezing," Vanille squeaked.

The Gran Pulsians stayed in a close embrace. Choco paced in a measured circle around them. Their Eidolons, Bahamut and Hecatoncheir, as well as Kirin, stood on a little patch of ground about a metre away; watchful. Dajh sat with Bartholomew and Cid, near the Eidolons; Mist Dragon remained as an orb on the ground. Within her icy form, the Sylph she'd captured struggled.

More Sylph were being created in the air; the lights bunched together, into glimmering hives, which spread and grew until they were distinct forms. Then the light dimmed, and green-and-white beings soared off. The hordes ignored the group below; either because they didn't see them, or because they were viewed as inconsequential.

No longer being one of the Sylph, Dajh and Cid found the sensation of not knowing a little annoying. They were used to inherently knowing the thoughts of any Sylph near and far.

"Anyone got an umbrella?" Vanille chirped

"I don't think that's gonna keep them away," Fang whispered, finger tracing the line of Vanille's cheekbone. The redhead giggled.

"Might do," the younger Gran Pulsian's snaked around the elder's blue drape

"Get a room!" Dajh shouted, chuckling.

The laughter proved infectious, and soon the whole group, even Choco and possibly the Eidolons, were laughing at it. A sudden release of tension from the foul mood which gripped them.

"What's the first thing you're going to do if we get back?" Vanille chirped to Fang, still close

"When," the raven haired muttered, tracing a strand of Vanille's red hair with her eyes

"Huh?" the redhead squeaked

"When we get back, not 'if'," Fang corrected

"Fine, _when _we get back," Vanille enunciated sarcastically precisely, "What's the first thing you're going to do?"

"You," Fang paused just long enough to make the word seem like an answer in its own right, "Need to ask?"

"Nah," Vanille giggled, blushing.

"You?" Fang whispered, lips again pressing to Vanille's cheek

"Um," the redhead frowned, "I'm going to ask Light what took her so long."

Fang chuckled. The redhead joined in with the laugh, treating the noise as a shield against the storm of Sylph around them.

The rain had ceased falling a few minutes ago. The clouds were still black, but when they looked up, a net forged of thousands upon thousand of Sylph bodies floated in the clouds; a structure of such small creatures, linked together, interwoven with their small leaf-like arms. The Sylph kept the rain away, leaving those on the world itself easily able to perform their task.

If they stared far enough along the horizon, it was possible to perceive the edge; a mist of rain falling. However, it was hard to judge accurately, most of the Sylph horde was hidden in the clouds, taking in the water, the unbalance. No specific edge was directly visible.

And in no place was the concentration of Maker-light more concentrated than in the clouds.

Several minutes later, the Sylph froze. It was as if someone had flicked a switch.

They all hovered, yet were stationary, like in ice.

In one movement, all of the hundreds of Sylph in sight turned, facing the Chosen directly. Even the clouds seemed to ripple in that one, linked, eerie movement.

"We're being watched," Vanille murmured, eliciting a nervous chuckled from Fang at the understatement.

Black clouds, darkened background. White specks of light, the only illumination; and yet those too were still. And lit up by the Maker-light, so, so many Sylph-forms. All staring.

An instant later, the battle began.

Lightning fast, soaring rather than warping, the Sylph shot through the air, bullets towards the group.

A cry, stronger and more agonizing than anything they'd ever heard, wordless, almighty, ripped through the air; the indescribable Voice of the Maker. And possibly something else.

Hecatoncheir leapt up, limbs flailing, striking Sylph away; his arms whirled like fans, imperceptible. Beside him, Bahamut barrelled, hammering Sylph away, occasionally supporting the still-weary crimson Eidolon.

Kirin bounded along the land, unable to be as dramatic in violence as the others, but still proving to be a force to be reckoned with; pressing Sylph to the ground and pressing her shining golden mask into them. Helping, Dajh controlled Choco, unarmed, but pecking and lashing out.

Cid and Bartholomew seemed almost superfluous in the grand scale of things, and yet they still took part. Cid, using years of PSICOM training, to knock as many Sylph to the ground as he could. Bartholomew was along side him, obviously less trained, but doing the best he could against the creatures which had controlled his life for the last five hundred years. Around them, the Mist Dragon grew, spreading into a kind of honeycomb, each orb imprisoning a Sylph.

"Go!" Dajh muttered, Choco, his mount, galloping past the Gran Pulsians; "We're not going to be anything except a distraction. You know it: but you have to live! If you die here, you'll get thrust deeper into death and we'll never save you or fix the ripples."

Fang and Vanille stood there for a moment, paralyzed, unsure.

Helping them along, a powerful burst of air blew towards them from Hecatoncheir's direction. They stumbled along the ground, out of a split-second gap in the swarm of Sylph. The instant they were outside, they ran, not out of fear, not out of a lack of desire to help, but from necessity.

The Sylph had created a hemisphere of white, a writhing, rounded surface over the ground. Occasionally an Eidolon peeked out, but not often. And no Sylph were elsewhere; all the Sylph were homing in on that one point, save for those in the sky. If they stood much closer, they'd be consumed by the swarm.

"I don't want to leave them," Vanille suddenly murmured

"Me neither," Fang ran her hand down Vanille's shivering arm tenderly; "But we don't have a choice." Fang's voice became more of a half-insane wail by the end of the sentence.

"I know," Vanille murmured, downcast.

With that, they were running again, pacing quickly along the uneven ground, hoping Lightning could save them.

A blur shot straight past them, between them. Sylph: two, either from the sky, or castaways from the hemisphere. Fang quickly turned, stepping closer to Vanille, to stare at the two beings-

-who vanished in a flash of white, gold and red.

Light appeared in the air around them. It was similar to the light of the Maker, only it was more solid, so much more solid. Instead of separate specks, this was one, complete, unbroken glow. It emanated from the ground beneath them and the air around them.

Vanille nudged Fang, pointing at the being which had rescued them from the Sylph.

It was a knight; garbed in gold and white, surrounded, somehow, by a blur of falling rose petals. He held a long, jagged, curved blade; more a scythe than sword.

"Odin!" Fang breathed.

The knight. Lightning's Eidolon.

He turned slowly, gaze moving from the sideways direction he'd moved to cut away the Sylph, to facing Fang and Vanille directly, staring into their eyes. From beneath his gold and white metallic face, they could make out an odd expression: one either of sorrow, or envy.

Movement appearing slow, though it was faster than the eye should normally see, the Eidolon moved his blade, pointing it at Vanille. A flash of light pierced the air, a bright crimson, the shade of a rose.

It touched Vanille's side. The blaze did not burn, instead, a feeling of sadness passed through her.

"Oh!" Vanille exhaled, fiddling around her side. A few seconds later, she picked up the blue leaf of Etro.

Just one word was emblazoned on the leaf; one word from Odin.

_Farewell._

"Farewell?" Vanille looked up, confused, "Why 'farewell'?"

Odin bowed his head once, gently.

The light around the two Chosen increased in intensity, orange and blue glyphs shining, echoes of something etched as if the shining was solid.

For a split second, a light, a flare appeared in front of them. Not the crystalline glimmer of the Maker; something more sinister.

It was black; pure black. Like fire, it rose upwards, pulsating. The large glare appeared more to steal illumination from the air around it, than give it. And in the centre, an eye could almost be seen; so dark, so, so dark.

Neither Chosen said the word they were thinking: Lindzei. Viper. Creator of Cocoon, Demon and Ender.

The glare of absolute darkness vanished soon however; blotted out by the white glare which rose up around them.

O

The glyphs of the summoning of an Eidolon intensified around a shouting Lightning. The people around her backed away, worried, afraid almost. They had no way to fight.

"Yes!" Hope suddenly ran up, grinning from ear to ear.

He'd been hiding inside an Oerban building it seemed, for a little time.

Following him, the brown-winged form of Shemhazai gracefully descended. Everyone looked at her with undisguised hate.

"What're you cheering about?" Snow muttered, irritated, to Hope.

"This was the plan!" the silver haired boy grinned.

Everyone looked at him, surprised. Even Lightning peered up, through the blur of energy and runes, etched in the air around her.

"You must summon the Chosen your own way," Hope quoted; "It's what Etro said to Lightning."

"Eidolons," Serah murmured, amazed; "Theirs were with them, in Death."

"Eidolons are the spirits of the dead," Asura murmured; "Perhaps…" her voice trailed off; she smiled: "Etro said it to you, didn't she?" the black-and-red-haired woman rolled her eyes. "Interference. The only time she's been able to really interfere, was by using the magic innate to Eidolons."

"They're coming back," Snow murmured, awed.

"And, of course I couldn't be there to start with," Hope shrugged, looking back to the circle of summoning light; "Light's always been good at spotting liars."

"No one even think 'dismissed'," Sazh chuckled, "And hope it lasts."

"You forget the myths," Shemhazai spoke in her normal whispering tones, though her voice was tinged with reverence; "Seat of Sacrifice. A l'Cie turned to Cie'th upon calling an Eidolon. The Eidolon still wanders."

"How do you know that?" Sazh widened his eyes, surprised

"A l'Cie requires a fal'Cie," Shemhazai whispered witheringly, looking away. Either ashamed or disinterested.

The lights of the Maker continued to glow, scattered throughout the air. They began to form shapes, patterns, symmetry. One might have been an echo of a Sylph, if it ever grew solid enough.

But…was it their imagination, or were those crystal lights gradually fading?

"It shouldn't take this long," Lightning forced the words out.

She was on her knees, gripping her branded, shining forearm tightly. Her face was twisted in concentration, the strain of the summoning. Garnet light began to shine from the glyphs and circle.

Seconds later, the red faded, washed away by a current. Orange and blue began to grow; the cheerful shade of flowers and sunlight, mixed with the vast cerulean of the sea. Two new colours.

It was not Odin coming. The rose had left. Instead, something else was being summoned. Lightning hoped, prayed even, that the reason for the change was Etro, and not something else.

"It should _not _take this long," the pink haired soldier forced the words out again, curling up around her shining arm.

The sensation was not unlike holding her breath; a strain, growing until it begged for release. Release which would not arrive.

The summoning was taking too long.

"The disturbance," Shemhazai whispered; "Even though your despair called them, the damage to the fabric of Life and Death still bears relevance."

The fal'Cie bowed her metallic head, before looking, again, back at Lightning. "Apologies for bringing you to such emotion."

"I'll forgive you," Lightning muttered, "If we can get through this."

Specks of blue appeared; this time in the air. Similar to the lights of the Maker, only the same shade at Etro's lips.

They were faint, faded, like raindrops. Swaying, floating through the air until they embraced Lightning in a broad, glittering trail. The loop of light drew inwards, until the glow of summoning was tightly contained within a sapphire ring.

"Etro…" Lightning murmured, struggling to pronounce the words, wearing from the summoning.

It was still going on, the normally shocking calling of an Eidolon prolonged unnaturally, by the dissolve of the laws which regulated it. A mild irony: the means to save Fang and Vanille relied on bypassing a distortion they caused, a distortion they would prevent should they get past it.

Ultramarine sparks shone brighter, eclipsing the pale crystal of the Maker.

"_Aid us!_"

The utterly divine, binding voice of Etro echoed, emanating from not only the light, but the air around them. Urgent, melancholy, commanding, respectful: so many things resounded in the two words.

Feeling the compulsion to obey, Serah was the first to move. The Farron sister ran straight into the light, being lost to their sight as she entered the flare, stepping through Etro's shining, blue boundary.

"Serah!" Snow shouted, reaching towards the light. Its glare blocked all sight of what was within; the navy and peach glyphs spiralling, spreading.

It was a stunning sight, the summoning of an Eidolon, multiplied tenfold, struggling to get through the barrier created by the living in Death. Lightning, the source, was in there, somewhere, struggling against the energy shooting from her arm; and Serah had now entered.

Snow raised his forearm to cover his eyes, before charging in after his wife. Shemhazai was the next to follow him in, wings outstretched though failing to cast any shade. Sazh entered, before Hope and Asura, hands tightly clasped together, stepped into the light.

It was impossible to see anything. The white dominated all, save for the few orange and blue specks that flickered across their vision.

"Here!" Lightning's voice shouted, sounding strained. Unsurprisingly, really.

Using the noise as a guiding influence, the ex-l'Cie and one fal'Cie moved towards the soldier, meeting in the centre. They found each other by touch, pausing for a moment, comforted by the presence of the others.

Flailing gently, blindly, they all rested hands on Lightning, her arm, shoulders, back, feeling for her, relaxing, giving the pink haired soldier all energy and hope. All that they could muster.

"Thank you," Lightning's words were little more than a whisper.

The summoning went on.

Everyone held on to Lightning. The soldier fed on their support, using it not only as motivation, but as energy, relying on it, struggling against the light.

The white turned to two distinct colours; to separate sections, one blue, one orange. And eventually, agonizing seconds later, it began to dim.

The shining cerulean of Etro's aid blew away, like dust on the wind. As the flecks disappeared, the air was clear: no Maker-light, no Etro-light, no summoning.

_My gift to you._

Etro's voice haunted the space around them for a few more seconds, until it too faded.

The group of ex-l'Cie and fal'Cie looked up, around, eyes adjusting from the brightness of the summoning.

Steps away, two women stood, in a firm embrace, lips locked together.

One had red hair, seeming iridescent in the living daylight, and pale skin, garbed in peach. The other had long, unkempt raven locks hanging beautifully down a tanned, pronounced face.

Lightning coughed, bemused by their immediate action upon reappearance.

Blinking, surprised, the Gran Pulsians stepped apart, looking around. Vanille's eyes widened, and she giggled in glee.

"You did it then?" Fang's reaction was more reserved, though Lightning, Vanille and most of the others suspected she was controlling an awful lot of feeling.

"Yippee!" Vanille giggled.

_End of part 2_

**There will be an epilogue, just to say. But this is the main story completed.**


	46. Epilogue: Life

**The Epilogue to Awakening!  
This is the last chapter, so please drop a review, even if just an emoticon, to tell me how much you liked the story. I can tell you, I really enjoyed writing it.  
Also, this story will soon be out of canon, I reckon. Final Fantasy XIII-2 has been confirmed.  
In any case, I hope you enjoy this ending. 259 pages and 139002 words. Though technically it's probably less than that, as that'd include all the paragraph breaks and notes I added in my copy between chapters.  
In any case, this is the longest thing I have ever written. I hope you enjoyed reading.**

**Now, back to the story!  
-Jane. **

The happiest day, so the saying goes. For Fang and Vanille, it was no exception.

There was a watching crowd around them. Lightning stood between Shemhazai and Serah: the fal'Cie had restored the soldier's memories. Snow stood next to the younger Farron, his arm over her shoulders; and the young Alexi smiled innocently from just below and between them. Hope and Asura stood together, Asura next to Shemhazai. Sazh completed the group, just to the side of Snow.

NORA were also there; Lebreau, Gadot, Yuj and Maqui, in a line near Snow.

The two Gran Pulsians were in front of the group: Vanille in a long, pale peach dress, and Fang in a similar, blue dress.

"Missing anyone?" Fang muttered to Vanille.

"Hmm," the redhead tilted her head, looking around. "Anima maybe. That's about all."

A snort came from the crowd. They looked at Hope questioningly; "Long story," the silver haired man chuckled.

Shrugging, the women looked back at each other, eyes meeting softly.

"I love you," Fang whispered.

Vanille giggled, not quite speaking in response. Fang just rolled her eyes.

"No chickening out," Fang muttered quietly to Vanille

"I suggested this in the first place," Vanille chimed back, "I'm not going to stop."

Fang smiled briefly, exhaling slowly. The elder woman leant forwards, lips almost touching-

"Hurry up!" Sazh shouted from the crowd, good humour restored by the setting.

Fang shot an amused look sideways; "It's my wedding," Fang said sardonically, "I can take as long as I like."

"Mine too!" Vanille hopped, "And I don't mind it when she takes a while."

"I was talking about the ceremony," Fang murmured quietly to the redhead.

"Me too!" her face was the picture of innocence, until the mask cracked for a split second. "Mostly…"

For the second time, the Gran Pulsians again leant closer to each other, both ecstatic, happy to the point of superlative. Their lips almost touched.

A blue light, flickering into existence between their close eyes, brought that to a halt.

A series of gasps interrupted the proceedings; more of the blue confetti rising, appearing in the air. They twirled, twinkling, before fading away.

Walking with silent footsteps, a stream of people rolled into view. Invisible, until a few metres away, the edges of the blue glimmers, where their translucent bodies first appeared. By the time they reached the seats, the main aspect of the wedding, they wee fully solid, as if fully there.

Dozens of them; men, women and children.

All slowly, gracefully moved to the array of living people. Ancient Oerba stood around them, illuminated now in the blue lights of the Goddess Etro: the lights which allowed these ghosts to walk.

The Cavalry were there. Half a hundred faces Fang could recognize, those who'd helped her when she was rescued from Euride. Following them, Cid Raines joined the wedding.

More old friends joined them.

Some of NORA walked to the wedding, those who hadn't stayed in crystal and had been lost centuries ago. They stayed the opposite side of Fang and Vanille to the Cavalry; grouping behind Snow, Serah and Alexi. There were not many, only around ten, but the carried enough joy for so many more.

Nervous, Rhoswen too appeared, stopping behind Hope and Asura.

Even the Eidolons began to appear. Hecatoncheir, Bahamut and Odin were the first, sitting, still slightly translucent, around the outer edges of the proceedings. Then, quietly, others began to appear. Mist Dragon floated above, Kirin hopped level with the circle, Alexander rested behind Hope, Brynhildr stationed herself behind Sazh, and the Shiva Sisters drifted into sight, arms linked, just behind Snow.

Still, more lost ghosts began to trickle into view. The next four to appear however, were by far the most important.

To begin, Bartholomew and Nora Estheim held hands, together for the first time in a long while, walking through the lights, until they stopped behind Hope. And then, Dajh walked into view, leading Choco with caring strokes, halting beside Sazh.

The seconds ticked past. The cerulean lights of Etro gave the proceedings an almost dreamlike quality, the Goddess's blessing making the wedding a fantasy, more perfect than they'd dreamed.

And then, the last ghosts slowly walked into view.

Those of Oerba.

Long lost to the world, the ancient ghosts of the citizens of Oerba walked again, those who lived in the last days before Ragnarok. Nodding, smiling, silently greeting the two Chosen from a distance. People of all conceivable looks and appearances formed a border, around the central group, circling Fang and Vanille, but closer than the Eidolons.

For the first time in almost a millennium, the people of Gran Pulse walked again.

Etro's beautiful azure continued to illuminate the air.

"_Is my wedding gift to your liking?_" the divine voice of the Goddess seemed to emanate from the air.

Slowly, Etro formed from the lights, a body borne of the magical confetti, standing near the Gran Pulsians, on the small raised platform the couple also stood on.

Vanille could not speak, tears building in the corners of her eyes: even Fang took a moment to regain her voice: "Y-Yes," there was no more to say.

The Goddess Etro closed her pale eyes for a moment; as normal, colourless save for those striking lips. Moments later, she opened them, looking up, around at the gathering.

"_My gift is more than this; my debt requires so much more, for you have thrice saved my realm."_ Her voice retained the divinity it normally saved for when she was made of purely light; "_These ghosts will walk among you for as long as you live. The friends you have lost are now here again; though they may no longer live, you will behold no change._"

Her pale face gently looked at the Gran Pulsians in front of her: "_You are now my messengers, my Eidolons. The rules are different now: I have much more freedom. This I may say: it will be a long time before we meet again._"

Fang and Vanille smiled, still holding each other close. Fang leant forwards again, lips nearing Vanille.

"Third time lucky?" she murmured quietly. The redhead giggled.

"_But first_," Etro spoke once more, causing Fang to roll her eyes, "_If I may_?"

Eyes widening, Vanille soon nodded. Fang, quickly understanding, followed suite.

Giving a slow, graceful smile, Etro once again began to speak, a short, meaningful sentence.

"_I hereby pronounce you, Oerba Dia Vanille, and Oerba Yun Fang, married, and not even death will do you part._"

Surrounded by friends, both living and lost, and blessed by the Goddess standing just steps away, illuminated by divine light, they moved closer.

Oerba Yun-Dia Vanille, and Oerba Yun-Dia Fang, the Chosen of Gran Pulse, and saviours of Cocoon, their eyes watched each other, and drew nearer, until their lips met.


End file.
